After the Blaze
by musicalsoul
Summary: As the web grows ever more tangled, those trapped in it are only drawn further in. Luckily, you've got a disillusioned narrator who gets up on the wrong side of the bed every day. This should be fun. -Pairings develop slowly-
1. After the Blaze

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ I don't own anything related to Final Fantasy VII; I do not write this fanfiction for profit. All rights go to SQUARE-ENIX.

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Nibelheim was generally a quiet little town. Yes, quiet is the word.

I remember the day that the SOLDIERs came into town. There was a great big fuss. _First class, _they said. _General Sephiroth,_ they said. The memory is burned into my mind.

It was a clear morning. The sky didn't even have a trace of clouds in it, and the sun warmed everything that its golden hands could reach. I had been sitting outside of my Mama's café, idly twirling a packet of sugar that probably didn't even contain true sucrose back and forth through my fingers.

Dante—that's my dog—had been sitting at my feet. His black fur warmed my cold shoes, so I was glad to be sitting with him. Instead of feeling like a piece of frozen meat, like I usually did, I was actually moderately warm.

Mama had been bustling about, setting saucers out on tables, cleaning the counter, turning the sign from 'closed' to 'open' so everyone passing by could see. I can still recall what she had been wearing. Mama had worn a black dress and her usual white apron, the one with an apple embroidered on its pocket.

She had made sure that the café was extra clean. The SOLDIERs were visiting. Couldn't let anything be out of order, right?

Boy, she had been on a roll.

"Chloe, help me with the silverware!" or "Boil the water, Chloe!" and "Chloe Browne, I swear to Gaia, you take after your father!"

I wasn't even sure _why_ they were coming. I was certain that they had far more important things to do besides come and traipse through Nibelheim. I admit, the surroundings and the green forests around my then hometown only added grandeur to the imposing mountains.

Any person could see that we loved living here. We had our cozy little house, our family dog, and the quaint café that had seen who knows how many generations of us. It had all been perfectly picturesque.

The summer had been quite lovely up until then.

I remember the odd looking ShinRa soldiers heading up the General. The helmets were what caught my attention, their three ruby red lights glaring out at the onlookers. They had been guarding the General with ominous looking guns. Those firearms appeared to be quite hefty, and that was only the infantry's equipment. I had always wondered why these SOLDIERs could carry around gigantic swords and seemingly never get tired of lifting the load.

That had been the first time I ever saw General Sephiroth. He was composed and tall, refined and calm; the face was a mask of placidness; the eyes...the eyes were stunning. Their pupils were slit, like a cat's, and the irises the most vibrant green hue I had ever seen. I was sure that he didn't like being stared at, but it didn't help that he had long, silver hair.

And man, that dude could _walk_.

I've witnessed thousands of customers come in and out through the café doors, and I've observed even more _thousands_ of walking styles, but General Sephiroth had pinned that gliding-but-actually-walking gait down by the throat.

I knew people wouldn't swarm at the streets. It was unseemly and impolite, but, again, I knew that everyone was watching from their windows or at least peeking through their curtains to catch a glimpse of the renown hero.

And that was when it had happened.

A familiarly haggard shape had emerged from the corner of a bakery; the beggar had been limping, and I couldn't even see her face behind the mass of knotted and matted hair that covered half her face. She was dirty and grimed, her long years having hunched her over eventually.

I had never seen her in such a state, even on her bad days. She was a local beggar—never gave a name, though. She always supposedly 'told the future', and many had written her off as completely bonkers in their books.

Even so, the beggar seemed to have a target: General Sephiroth.

She marched up to him fearlessly, albeit a little slowly, and latched to his arm. Before anyone could even blink, the infantry had snatched her up (where did they put the guns?) and pulled her away, but by then, anyone with good enough hearing could catch on to what the beggar was screeching.

"You'll be the death of us all!"

After that scream, my dog flew into a fury.

Dante shot up, growling, his hackles standing pin-straight and his lips pulled back. It had been a good thing that I had had the foresight to tie him to the post outside the door; he couldn't run away, and therefore, I was allowed to get a fierce grip on him and pull him back. Tugging a seventy-five pound dog backwards was not the easiest feat on the Planet.

I hadn't the foggiest as to why Dante was acting like that. He was usually a very well behaved dog, well-mannered and sweet as honey. I had only seen him this aggressive on the day a robber had tried breaking into the café.

He had barked loud, long and clear, blowing my eardrums into oblivion and causing me to get down on my knees and grasp him in a bear hug to keep him back.

The ShinRa people, on the other hand, were completely unperturbed. The beggar was still being dragged away, but her voice could still be heard.

"You just watch, all of you! He'll kill us!"

She was towed farther away as I watched, red and hot from embarrassment that my dog would act up like this at the most inapropriate time.

"_You'll be the __**death**__ of us all!_"

After that shriek, I have no knowledge of what happened to her. She was simply carried away...the beggar could have been killed, for all I know. There were no gunshots and so on, but the General himself seemed very grim indeed. His jade eyes had narrowed ever so slightly, and his left hand had moved towards this incredibly long sword at his side.

Dante had simmered down after that, but when the SOLDIERs had walked past, he had pressed himself against my legs so hard that I thought he was going to stick to them afterwards.

There had been another SOLDIER with General Sephiroth, it appeared; he was tall and lanky, and of good build. He had spiky black hair and two little strands of it hung in front of his face, contrasting with his wildly blue eyes. That SOLDIER had smiled kindly at the people his gaze met; he gave me the impression of being eager, especially after seeing him practically bounce off the walls.

By the time they had left, I had absolutely forgotten about the beggar incident.

The rest of my day was taken up by serving customers, receiving more scolding and even more comparing to my father.

I was blissfully unaware of the catastrophe hurtling towards us in the near future.

Today, I know I should've taken the beggar more seriously.

_Everyone_ should have taken her more seriously.

We should have started listening the time she told us there were horrifying things going on in the ShinRa mansion.

It's all 'should have', right?

That means we didn't.

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_**A/n:**_ This could be continued, if you want...please review. I'd like to know what you think. : )


	2. Debts and Nostalgia

_**Chapter 2**_

_The morning after, everything was in shambles. _

_My life, my house, my __**father**__...it was all __**gone**__. _

_I couldn't do anything for a long period of time. I was sitting blankly on one of the rocks that had been hurled out of the bakery next door and watching the remnants of the caf__é__ fall into complete destruction. _

_The hungry tongues of ocher flame licked upwards, trying to taste the sky that they would never savor. The gray smoke billowed outwards, causing many people to choke and cough; they left the area whilst I remained. _

_Dante was at my feet. His fur was singed in several places and his left ear had been nicked by a piece of hurtling shrapnel early on into the blaze. It had stopped bleeding hours ago. I couldn't bring myself to look anywhere else but the collapsing caf__é__._

_The petals of ash drifted everywhere around us, coating what remained of the houses and the few people who were in the same immobile state that I was. It was a soft, feathery kind of snow, but sizzled when you ran your hand through it._

_I sported raw patches as proof on my palms and elbows. My hair, which had once been my pride and joy, had caught fire during the night. I had been sleeping on my bed when I felt something tickle my nose. Dante had been barking when I woke up. The fire had crawled up into my bed, feeding off of my hair and burning the sheets; had I not immersed my head in the water trough out back, I would have been disfigured by the flames. _

_The ash continued to settle over everything, but I stayed where I was. _

_I couldn't believe this...nothing so precious should have left so easily. _

_When Mama placed a hand on my shoulder, I was temporarily shocked back into reality—the nightmare people now called reality. _

_"Honey, we have to go." I had never heard her sound so defeated. She was just as bad in shape as I was. We __**all**__ were._

_"...Go? Go where? I would like to know," I whispered, turning back to the single trunk of wood that was all that was left of my former life. "Where could we possibly go? He's gone, Mama."_

_"We'll get through this," she promised, hugging me awkwardly. "We will keep on living."_

_"What is there to keep living for?"_

_A flash of pain erupted against my left cheek, and Dante yowled in protest, growling at Mama. I put a hand over the place where she had hit me, anger flaring in my chest immediately at the action. "Why the hell did you slap me?!" _

_Mama gave a wan smile. "That's more like the Chloe I know."_

_I started crying then. _

_I don't know when I stopped._

_Possibly a few hours later._

_- -_

It has been years since that time. Things have slid into a semblance of a normal routine, although sometimes our days seem hollow. Mama decided to chop my hair at chin length; I didn't really have any choice in the matter, since my hair was already ruined. It's grown back, thankfully.

Some people say I'm too frivolous about my hair, but dang, I love that bunch of dead cells. Dad loved it, too.

We are now staying at my aunt's, Mama's sister. Aunt Lily lives in Edge. She's got no kids, and has been alone ever since I can remember. Aunt Lily's been married before, but in case you couldn't guess, it didn't turn out too well. Since then...well, since then, she's never really picked up the romantic threads again. Can't blame her, really. I was never told the entire story, but I still have a feeling I don't really want to know.

It was a rainy day, and I was walking through the streets, taking Dante on a walk. He didn't really care for weather; he just wanted his afternoon walk, so it had been just a wee bit hard to squeeze him into his anorak. I was _not_ about to sit around for days afterward, dedicating all my time to untangling his fur. He'd deal with the anorak, and that's just how it was.

I was practically freezing my hands off. The rain was sometimes good, but in this case, it was an _autumn_ rain. This meant cold. I couldn't really feel the leash anymore since my fingers were numb, but the part of my body that suffered the most was my face.

Good Gaia, I could just see my ears falling off.

That train of thought had run off the tracks when Dante jerked forward, making me skid dangerously fast across the rain-slicked pavement. That's when he started running and things began to look funny to passersby.

"Oy, Dante! What d'you think you're doing?" I said irritably, a little annoyed that one of his 'hyper-moments' had descended upon us at this largely unexciting time.

I finally gave in and adapted a sort of loping jog that allowed me to keep up with Dante without overexerting myself, and watched as the city's buildings loomed over us and then phased into the obscurity of the fog. Shuddering, I turned my mind back to keeping Dante in control, trying to stop thinking about how uncomfortable I was in the city.

I didn't like the closely packed buildings, neither did I enjoy the amount of people. Sure, there were houses and stuff back in Nibelheim, but there weren't _this_ many, and the reactor (last I heard of it) was up in the forsaken mountains, for heaven's sake! I did not enjoy cement every single step of the way. My hometown had been made of _stone_. Good old stone. Not harsh, rough cement.

Very soon, I decided I wouldn't stand up for this any longer. "Dante, heel!"

The dog froze in his tracks, sitting firmly on the ground. Now that we were static, the rain started to drip through my hood and into my hair, down my face and _down_ my _shirt_. I huffed, my breath materializing in a white puff that floated away instantaneously.

"Good boy," I complimented, patting his head wearily. He looked up at me expectantly, tilting his head to one side and blinking at me innocently. I gave an exasperated sigh and bent down, kissing Dante on the snout. "There, happy now?"

Dante barked, running around in circles; before I knew it, he had looped the leash around and around my feet, so it wasn't a surprise that when he moved I went tumbling down. My braid hit me in the face—it didn't feel so good since the braid itself was wet to the core.

"Ack!"

There was a splash as I landed in a puddle, now utterly soaked to the bone. I glared at Dante, who was currently panting happily, looking extremely chipper. I closed my eyes, trying to block his eager expression. I groaned, getting up on my knees first.

"Holy Gaia, I am going to have the toughest time taking these jeans off," I grumbled, untangling my feet from the leash and ridding myself of any danger that he'd trip me again. Dante just continued panting, trotting in place on the pavement and sending little water droplets everywhere.

"Oh, gods, Dante...you're making me wet!" I complained, and Dante just barked in response. "How can one be angry at you...?" I murmured to myself, scanning my dog's face and finding only genuine and joyful eyes. Sighing again, I pulled myself up to my full height. The only thing that wasn't dripping (or damaged by the water) were my boots.

"Come on, it's back home for us," I said, tugging gently on the leash. Dante followed my reluctantly, and we were soon trudging to the house through torrents of forbidding rain. We finally came to a small house in a niche between a company building and a grocery store.

Yes. _That _was the place I currently called my house.

It wasn't anything to write home about, but quite comfortable on the inside. There was even a small fireplace in one corner of the house, so that was another plus.

I knocked on the door, and it swung inwardly, revealing my always orderly mother. Her eyes widened after they had traveled up and down a few times.

"What happened to you?"

"Dante loves the water..." I muttered, sidestepping into the house. It was warm inside. I bent down and unclipped the leash from Dante's collar; with one swift movement, I had unbuttoned the anorak and then off he went, disappearing into the depths of the house.

"You'd best be taking a shower," Mama said. She opened her mouth to tell me something, but she hesitated. I could _see _it.

"What else is there?" I asked, almost irately. I quickly regretted it as I saw my mother flinch. "Sorry..." I apologized softly. "I've been a little touchy lately. I feel like something big is going to happen."

This only made Mama's expression tighten even more. I could see her mouth pursing into a thin line. I groaned internally. Whatever the news was, it was _not_ good.

"Honey, we might lose the house," she whispered, so quietly that I thought I had misheard. It only took a few seconds for the entire sentence to sink into my slow brain. After that, my thought process went so fast that I felt myself getting a migraine.

"...We _**what**_?"

"Lose. The. House."

"Oh, I see," I remarked, straightening up and folding my hands over my chest. I oddly felt like bursting into tears. "And why is that?"

"Lily hasn't worked in a very long time," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose to keep her composure neat. "And the economic situation hasn't been exactly lovely."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" My voice was dangerously low. I felt anger crawling up my throat, ready to burst out in a torrent of hateful words.

"I could never work up the courage....you're going to have to get a job."

That was what set me off.

"Why _**me**_?! I already work at that crappy place, so why should I get another job?" I protested. I could hear Dante's whimpers from the kitchen, and made a mental note to go and comfort him later. He hated it when I shouted.

"You'll have to work two part-times," my mother answered firmly, her voice becoming more confident now. I could sense the argument coming, but I didn't just about nothing to stop it.

"No. I won't. We can get evicted, for all I care! Then we can move back to Nibelheim, where things were just _slightly_ in order," I hissed, clenching my fists. Mama paled.

"You know we can't do that."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." Mama smoldered at me for a second before shooting something else in my direction. "I don't see why I talk to you, anyway. You're just like your father."

The comparison made me feel like I'd swallowed a steel rod. "Heh...just like dad, right?"

She realized that she had given me an insult I no longer wanted to hear. "I'm—"

"Sorry? Doesn't matter," I muttered, turning away from her and stomping up the stairs. I vaguely registered Dante's pattering footfalls behind me, following my footsteps. I marched straight into my room and shut the door behind me and Dante, sitting down abruptly on the carpeted floor.

It was accurate to say that my head could burst at the moment.

"Hey, Dante..."

His ears pricked up at the sound of his name.

"This is so terribly cliché, isn't it?" I asked him. Dante gave me a small whine, indicating that he was confused. "Yeah, well, you know what's the _worst_ things about clichés?"

I turned my head to the window. It was still pouring outside; the thunder rumbled over the house's roof, making the flimsy walls shake. I felt something cold and wet smatter on my head. I looked up to see my ceiling leaking. Oh, joy. Why does the world seem bent on drenching me?

"The worst thing is that they're true."

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_**A/n:**_ Huge thank you to _**R . R e e v e s**_ for reviewing! As for the rest of you, I can see the views, you know. It takes you only a few minutes, if seconds, to review. Well, if anyone's curious about the way Chloe looks, I put a picture of her up on my profile. Things are going to pick up next chapter! Thank you for reading. : )


	3. Materia Matters

_**Chapter 3**_

"You are _fired_!"

The door slammed in my face, and I felt my cheeks grow hot with fury. I looked like a nightmare. My hair was sticking out of my normally tidy (I like to think) braid, and I was no doubt blushing a red that rivaled the scarlet of the fire department cars. I clenched my fists and relaxed them, then balled them again, feeling my gloves expand and crumple beneath my grip.

"Fired, eh? Well, see what I care! I'm not about to stick around!" I shouted to the door, earning myself several queer looks from the people walking by the restaurant. The door I was standing in front of was the entrance to the diner where I used to work.

Today had been the last straw.

I am not the type of person to sit and do nothing while being eyed by some creepy old man who just _decided_ to walk in and sit at table four—which, I may add, has a perfect view of the kitchen. It disgusted me and disturbed me.

I had not been wearing revealing clothes, either. Grumbling a colorful string of dark expletives, I shrugged on my jacket, immediately feeling comfort when the artificial fur lining the jacket warmed my arms and neck. Cursing, I turned on my heel and started striding my way home, automatically avoiding people who were walking in my direction.

I waited for a few minutes for the light to turn green at the street, but missed it due to my extremely overworked and frizzled brain. After I saw the light turn red again, I felt something inside me deflate as the flame of anger puffed away in a small cloud of smoke.

"Ah, to hell with waiting," I growled, turning back to the stores. "Time for a shortcut."

Grabbing a jutting piece of awning from a random store, I hauled myself up to its relatively close to the ground roof. I nearly lost my grip when I heard a voice shout out my name.

"Chloe Browne! Get down, girl! What are you, a monkey? Climbing my store like that! Down, this instant!"

I turned my head backwards, and had to shake my head to get my braid out of my eyes. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Tussen."

"Don't 'hi' me, Chloe! _Get down!_"

"Relax...I've done this a thousand times."

"Which is why it worries me! What would your mother say?"

I rolled my eyes so hard they hurt. I looked down at the pudgy woman looking back up at me, taking note of her apron and the box of peaches that she was currently holding. "Mama doesn't say anything anyways. Besides, I'm just taking a shortcut..."

"You could get hurt!"

I pulled myself up completely, standing now on top of the roof. "I'll see you around."

"_Chloe!_"

Hearing her warnings no longer, I jumped across the roof and onto the thick plank of wood that led me across into my house's backyard. It wasn't hard to do—you didn't have to be some sort of elite SOLDIER to vault the short distance, nor walk the wide plank. I landed on the ground lightly, feeling my boots' soles absorb the shock of my jump.

I reached for the knob of the back door, but it swung inwards before I could grasp it well. Mama's gasp of surprise sent a thrill of fear through me, and I leapt back slightly.

"Chloe! What are you doing here?"she asked, clutching the laundry basket to her chest. No doubt she was coming out here to take in the clothes that had been drenched by the rain.

"Uh...I kinda..."

"Yes?"

"I got fired."

There was a brief moment of silence between us, but it didn't last too long. Mama's eyes were swimming with a mixture of odd emotions—I could detect irritation...and disappointment..._and_ confusion.

"..._Fired_?"

"Yes, fired. Given the pink slip. Kicked out. Booted. Trashed. Dumped! What more should I say?" I quickly blurted, losing my calm mask in a wretched moment of nervousness. I turned my face away from her, staring beyond the fence and onto the busy streets.

I heard Mama sigh. She shifted her weight, making the floorboards beneath her creak slightly. I glared at them beneath my eyelashes—even the wood was moody with me today!

"When are you going to manage to sustain a job, Chloe?"

"I don't know," I told her, honesty present in my words. That was information that I had not accessed myself. I always seemed to be taken off jobs after working them for about four weeks or so—I don't know what was so horribly wrong with me that made me bad around people.

I felt like a bramble bush in the midst of an orchard.

My thorns hurt. They cut, slashed, and never could fit in wherever you put them. When my face started to burn with heat, I lowered my head so Mama couldn't see it.

"'I don't know' is not a good enough answer anymore," Mama said sadly, the ends of her mouth turned down in a half-frown. Suddenly, the frown turned to a full-fledged expression of odium, and I was taken aback within my own shell. "You are no longer fifteen, Chloe! You've _got_ to shape up. It's been _six _years since you've become a legal adult."

I groaned, spinning on my heel in a three hundred and sixty degree turn, ending up facing her anyway. "Why must I listen to this?"

"Because you are—"

"Already a young woman," I picked up the line where I cut her off, "and it is now your responsibility to take care of your own life." Mama blinked at me, not amused by the words that were coming out of my mouth.

"One day I won't—"

"Be here," I sighed, slipping my hands in my pockets, "and you'll have to fend for yourself."

Mama let her head loll backwards, as if she were asking the ceiling a question. "To all the stars and planets above, what—"

"Are you going to do with me?" I offered, completing the sentence yet again. "I don't know that, either."

There was another pause between us. Abruptly, Mama's face stiffened into another granite-hard expression and I felt my heart skip a beat. Oh, she was angry. And when Mama got mad at you, there's nothing you can do to escape her punishment.

"On second thoughts, I know _exactly_ what to do with you."

I tried hard not to gulp.

"_You_, my dear, are going to help out at Mrs. Tussen's grocery store. She wrenched her back yesterday and she can't really work well." Mama fidgeted, looking me straight in the eye. "And since your job is non-existent, I'd say it's a pretty good way to build your character."

"There you go with the building character again!" I threw my hands up in the air, spinning away from her and walking into the house, instantly being greeted by a barking Dante. "Why can't I ever do what _I_ want?" I emphasized my point by holding my hand to my chest.

"What do you want to do? Tell me! Please, tell me! I want to know!" she mocked, turning to face me. Dante cowered away behind my feet.

"I want to _travel. _I want to go _**home**_!" I yelled, my emotional dam finally breaking, its remains carried away into my memory. "Ever since we've moved here, nothing's been the same! We always do things like we're skating on thin ice—we're always careful. I want to do something for myself, for once!" I told her, feeling the tears starting to sting my eyes.

This was _so_ unnecessary and completely uncalled for! Why couldn't we just get along? I couldn't say that we had been living harmoniously in the past, but it was a hell more peaceful at Nibelheim than it was at Edge. Whenever something happened, it dashed our relationship onto the rocks. Very soon, there wouldn't be much of it left—not enough to be called mutual respect or even tolerance. I didn't want that to happen. I felt my breathing quicken as the tension crackled in the room.

"What's all the ruckus?" a voice, blurred with sleep, echoed out into the room, defusing the time bomb of an argument.

"Lily," my mother said tersely, pulling herself up again. "Good afternoon."

Aunt Lily chuckled mirthlessly as she moved across the room, her hand mechanically reaching into the counter drawer and fishing out a packet of cigarettes. I always hated her habit with a passion—that didn't mean I hated Aunt Lily herself, but she could be quite an obstinate person when she wanted to, and I never respected her when she did it without any credibility or dignity. It's one thing to support your opinion, and another thing to verbally attack someone simply because they don't agree with you.

"G'afternoon, Sprout," Aunt Lily rumbled, lodging a cancer stick between her lips. My jaw tightened at the nickname.

"I'll be going now," I said shortly, violently yanking Dante's leash off the hook beside the door and wrathfully clipping it onto his collar. Dante obediently followed me out of the door, which I took care in slamming. I heard Aunt Lily's laughter through the badly built door, and practically felt a small storm cloud forming over my head.

The sky was still trying to clear itself up, and so the weather was still very cloudy, which was perfectly fine by me! Dante trotted behind me, and we walked so fast that we reached Mrs. Tussen's grocery store in less than ten minutes.

Mrs. Tussen was waddling her way outside when we arrived, and the portly woman gave a cry of surprise when I appeared before her. "Ooh!" she calmed down when she saw that it was me. "Oh, it's only you. My, Chloe, you certainly gave me a fright."

I grinned at her slightly. "Sorry. My mom sent me...said you...wrenched your back? I'm here to help."

Mrs. Tussen gave a pained smile and nodded. "That's right, dearie. I pulled some dastardly muscle and now I can't even move properly. Your help would be greatly appreciated."

"Okay...what can I do?" I asked, switching my grip on Dante's leash.

"You can take the fruits out and sort them into the stalls," Mrs. Tussen said. "No need concernin' yerself with the kitchen. I know how you don't like the stove."

My throat constricted, and I gave her a small nod. "O-okay...I'll start sorting the fruit out. You...you don't mind if I tie Dante to the stall out front, do you?"

"No, not at all." Mrs. Tussen's eyes were forgiving. "Had another row with yer mother, did you?"

My answer, yet again, was a small nod. I trudged slowly out to the stalls, and tied Dante to one of the posts holding up the fruit containers. Unwillingly, but determined to persevere, I began my job of putting oranges with oranges, apples with apples, and pears with pears. I started to lose track and soon sorted only by color. If I kept at this, I was going to convince myself that apples were red!

My mind drifted over so many things during that little irrelevant period of time that I wasn't even sure what to think anymore. I really wanted my mother back—I wanted our conversations back, I wanted my comfortable nights at home returned to me.

But that was all a thing of the past.

If only Dad were here...

Sighing, I placed another apple in the cart to my far right. I felt a hand on my shoulder and shot up from the stool I was sitting on, the hairs on my nape standing on end.

"Calm down, Chloe! It's just me," Mrs. Tussen assured, looking confused at my startled state.

"Sorry..." I apologized lamely, sitting down again.

"Quit apologizing! Don't you want to take a break? It's been about an hour since you started working."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I heard that there's a market just down the street. Why don't you go, loosen up a little?"

"You mean it?" I said, clutching Dante's leash. One of Dante's ears swiveled in my direction, and a single black eye opened to observe the scene around him.

"I mean it. Go on. Anyway, Bernie'll be home soon."

"Ah. I should be going then," I added hastily, getting up from my seat with wobbly legs. I quickly on my way to the aforementioned market, moving as fast as I could from the grocery store. You see, theabsolutely last thing I wanted to do was to have a run in with Bernard, Mrs. Tussen's son. Bernard was...enthusiastic? Is that the way to put it? I don't really know...he is a caring guy, but not exactly reasonable.

I screeched to a stop when I came to a crowded street. There were striped awnings scattered everywhere, throwing light everywhere and dazzling my eyesight. I had to blink to dispel the haze over my vision. Dante barked next to me, prancing with happiness that he was moving again.

"Let's go see what they have, shall we?" I said, tugging the leash gently and melting into the crowd with my dog.

There were so many things to see, feel and smell—the spices and foods' scents drifted away from their various plates and jars, swarming my senses and overloading my mind with images and lines of bed time stories long forgotten and buried in a file of my life that had been neglected.

The colors of different garments were swathed across the stalls, looking as magnificent as they felt to the touch. Some were silky, some were coarse and others had a mixture between the two and you couldn't decide how to define it. My favorite items—by far—were the ones from Cosmo Canyon. It was at the top of my 'Places to Visit' list. I had been seeing pictures of its rugged terrain ever since I was a toddler. Dad had promised me that we would go together. He always told me about the amazing creatures there, with their flaming tails and ability to speak. I had been enchanted instantaneously.

I was about to reach out and touch something when a glow caught my eye at my left. I turned and felt my eyes widen.

"Oh, Dante, would you look at that?" I whispered in awe. Dante seemed to be silenced by the opalescent luminosity as much as I did. We just stared together.

I hadn't seen a materia stall ever since Nibelheim.

It wasn't an earth shattering event, but such unimportant things had skyrocketed in value for me when we lost the café. I watched as the different hues of color swirled before my eyes with a gentle phosphorescence; I wondered what they were for. I had heard that they could be used for _spells_. I certainly wanted to see the said spells, but I wasn't so sure that I wanted to know what damage they could do.

Dante growled beside me, and I faced him immediately, knowing that he didn't growl unless there was an important reason.

Suddenly, something cool was pressed into my hand; it was actually so cold that I could feel it through my glove. My exposed finger tips felt like they had just been stuck in fresh snow. Intrigued by the feeling, I looked down, and in my hands was a icy blue bauble of materia.

"How'd that get here?" I demanded, mostly to myself, holding it up for inspection.

A girl pushed past me, her bandana tickling my nose. My mouth went dry when I saw a huge shuriken slung on her back. She was much shorter than me, and her face was lively; it lit up with a huge grin when she met my gaze. Her dark green eyes sparkled mischievously.

"So long!" she mouthed, giving me a finger wave. I furrowed my brow, wondering what she meant.

"_Thief_! Hey, _you_, thief! Stop! You took something from my store!" a gruff, gravelly voice shouted, booming with ire and annoyance. Dante barked again, making me spin on my heel. I found myself face to face with a walrus-mustached man, whose glaring pits of eyes seemed to burn holes straight through my forehead. A strong hand enclosed my wrist, squeezing it tight and making it hurt. I gave a small yelp of shock.

"Caught you, _materia thief!_"

- -

_**A/n:**_ However is Chloe going to wriggle out of this one? Review, please! : )


	4. Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

_**Chapter 4**_

"T-thief?!" I spluttered, looking up at the man with a perplexed expression on my face. What in the blazing typhoons did he mean? And then my mind shot back to the winking girl, and I felt myself fill up with dread. She had framed me! _She_ was the real thief! For some inexplicable reason, I felt like I had seen her face before. But, I had no time for such thoughts when I was yanked off of the ground, my feet dangling a few inches away from the concrete.

"Give it back, little girl, or you'll wish you'd never been born!" the man huffed, extremely furious with me. "I had to travel all the way to Icicle Lodge to get that batch! I'm not about to let a small brat saunter off with my goods!"

"Sir, it wasn't me! I swear it to all that's good and holy, I didn't steal your materia!" I tried reasoning with him, all the while squiggling in his grip maddeningly, hoping to get myself loose. Curse you, short girl, whoever you are! She would pay, I promised myself.

"Ha! Trying to get on my good side, are ya? I saw you steal it. It's right there in your hand, girly! Hand it over." I did as I was told, although my temper ready to blow through my top in a very profane manner.

"Here, take the stupid materia. I didn't steal it! A girl passed by and put it into my hands!" I told him, still struggling to put my feet to the ground. My right hand felt like it was going to be pulled out of its damned socket, and if I didn't do anything soon, that's exactly what would happen. "Let go of me!"

"Not until I go through your pockets, robber."

"Go through my _pockets_?! Not a chance in hell, buster!" I protested, swinging back and forth. My hand gave a vicious crack, and I felt my shoulder come loose. There went my bad arm again. "Aw, dammit. Sorry for this in advance, mister. Dante, _bite_!"

Dante sprung into action quickly, latching his jaws firmly over the man's ankle. The shopkeeper gave a cry of pain and released me. I tumbled to the ground, trying to get my shoulder back into place. Back when the café had collapsed, my hand had been trapped under a piece of stone. Well, you could say my shoulder wasn't the same again. I glared at the shopkeeper. He had just taken it out its normal position for yet another time.

I scrambled to my feet, tugging on Dante's leash. "Come, boy!"

Thanking Gaia that he complied immediately, Dante and I darted through the crowds in the market, trying to avoid as many stalls as we could. We ran until I thought my legs were going to fall off—but thankfully, we were soon back on the streets again, and it took me only about five minutes to get us back on track. We found ourselves standing in front of the grocery store again.

Mrs. Tussen was out in the front, peeling oranges. She looked surprised to see me. "Back so soon? Did you have a good time?"

"Uh...sort of," I answered, feeling out of breath. I sat down next to her, trying to suck oxygen out of the air and successfully put into my lungs without coughing.

"You're flushed. Did anything happen?"

"No, nothing much." I rolled my shoulder, snapping it back into place. Mrs. Tussen pulled a slightly sour face.

"Must you do that?"

"Sorry, Mrs. Tussen. It gets a little sore sometimes."

"It's quite alright. Say...can you make a delivery for me? Bernie left early, and I had no time to give him his errands."

"Yeah, sure." Inwardly, I was enormously relieved to hear that Bernie was gone. That meant no pestering, no chasing, and above all, _no flirting_. My worries had currently flown out the window. "Where's the delivery stuff?"

"Oh, it's just a crate of lemons," Mrs. Tussen said, waving her hand dismissively. "You know how bars use lemon slices in their drinks—well, there's one apparently quite near here. Has an odd name, too. Just need you to drop the crate of lemons off. I've already been paid, so no need to worry."

"Ah, okay," I replied, rising from my seat. Both my heart and lungs felt better now. I no longer had a pounding pulse in my head from running excessively. Although a walk to a bar, carrying a crate of lemons, nonetheless, didn't sound too good, I was up for the job. Mrs. Tussen was always kind towards me, lending a helping hand. This was the least I could do for her.

Surprisingly, the crate was quite small—it also had a handle which helped me grasp it. That was a big positive point for the crate because I wouldn't have to worry about where Dante's leash would go.

After a few minutes, I found myself walking, yet again. I looked at the address I had written on a slip of paper; it had been taped to the crate. I knew where to go, and I knew the place's location—what I found interesting was the bar's name.

"Seventh Heaven? Wonder what kind of a bar it is," I muttered to myself, walking left to let an elderly person pass. Dante panted at my feet, his black eyes curious and sparkling with unspent energy. "Should be right over there," I said, nodding my head in the direction of a street.

Dante and I stepped up to the bar. A sign swung overhead, its letters staring down at me. Yep, I was in the right place. Taking a deep breath, I rapped sharply on the door with my knuckles.

"Come in," a voice said from the inside, and I opened the door.

"I came to deliver a box of lemons...I've got a dog with me. Is it okay to come in?" I asked, poking my head inside. The bar—which was _way _too clean looking and smelling to be a bar—was a quite nice place, and a young woman was standing behind its counter. Her hair looked black (or was it brown?), and her eyes were just as deep in color.

Her gaze shifted to Dante just for a bit. What she saw made her smile. She looked up at me again. "Sure. Doesn't matter."

I walked in hesitantly, and set the crate onto the counter. Dante lifted himself up on his hind legs and placed his paws on the counter. I gasped in horror. "Dante! What d'you think you're doing?" I reprimanded, floored by his misconduct. There were paw prints on the counter! Dante tilted his head at me and gave me a small whine. "No! No excuses. Down, _now_!" Looking a little deflated by my onslaught, Dante slid to his feet again. He gave me an unpleasant stare. "Glares will get you nowhere, buddy."

I lifted my head back to the bartender, who looked like she was going to burst out laughing. I was irately aware of the fact that Dante had misbehaved on the first time I had ever made a delivery to this place.

"I'm sorry about that," I apologized, hooking my free hand's fingers through the loops of my jean to keep myself from slapping my forehead in shame. "Dante's a little...enthusiastic."

"Ha ha, it's no problem," she said, smiling widely. "I'm Tifa, by the way. Tifa Lockhart."

"Chloe Browne," I introduced myself, shaking her outstretched hand.

"Nice to meet you." Tifa gave me one last smile before she looked at the crate. "Lemons, right?"

"Sure as they're carts to horses," I replied, my dad's old saying blurting out before I could stop it. "Mrs. Tussen's freshest bunch to date." I stretched my right arm out downward, wincing when the shoulder socket cracked for the fourth time.

_Maybe I should see a doctor for this freaking thing,_ I thought irritably, narrowing my eyes at the responsible limb. _Damn joint._

"That didn't sound too good," Tifa told me, hauling the lemons below the counter.

"Eh, it's been like that for a long time," I shrugged, leaning to the side when Dante stood up and pressed against me. "Oy, Dante! We're gonna fall, you know?" The dog paid me no heed. He licked my cheek instead. I ruffled his fur, scratching behind the ears. "We'll be going now."

"Isn't there anything I can get you?" Tifa asked, reaching forward and stroking Dante on the head. She looked happy when he nuzzled her hand.

"No, don't bother yourself. We're wanderers," I joked, taking one of Dante's paws and waving it around. There was the tiniest flash of gold in the corner of my eye—it came from the shadows of the bar, I was sure. I whirled around, searching the dark corridors of the bar and the shaded part of the stairs with my gaze. Was someone...watching?

"Something wrong?" Tifa asked, sounding concerned.

I straightened, abashed that she had caught me looking around like a maniac. "Ah, it's nothing. I just get a little...paranoid, sometimes." I laughed at my thoughts, and pushed Dante lightly off of me, signaling him to stand normally on his own. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," Tifa said, giving me another kind smile.

I tell you, she looked like one of those motherly types—despite all that, I couldn't help but notice her black gloves. Those appeared to pack quite a punch. She was also dressed quite casually. I was guessing that the clothes allowed her easy movement. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that this young woman could fight.

Dante and I walked to the door. I reached out and placed my hand on the knob, turning it to the right. We stepped out of the bar and into the fresh air. It was no mistake. There _was_ someone else in that bar. I could feel it in my bones, like when your mother knows you're lying.

It wasn't my business, I concluded, so Dante and I were soon on our way. I got back to the grocery store. Mrs. Tussen was quite pleased that I had managed to get the cart of lemons to the bar without and hassle. Bernie was notorious for his procrastination.

When I got home, my hand felt like it had been put through the shredder. I'd have to rest my shoulder now. If I could have gotten my hands on the shopkeeper at that moment, I would have done some very bad things to him. The pulled joint hurt like the dickens, and I didn't have a very high pain tolerance.

I got out of my work clothes and instead changed into a comfortable pair of sweat pants and a turtleneck whose collar swept across my shoulders. It kept me warm, and that was the important thing. Now, all I needed to know was where mom was at. I was getting sort of hungry, since it was time for lunch.

I entered the kitchen to see mom cooking. She didn't look up from the stove.

"Hey, mom."

She was so surprised by my voice (didn't she hear me come in?) that the knob for the gas was turned just a little higher than it should have been. The stove burst into a blue fire, and I felt my back freezing up, legs glued to their spot on the floor.

"Chloe! You scared me!" She turned the knob again and down the flame went, taking my poor nerves with it. My palms broke out into a cold sweat; the hairs on my nape stood up in sheer terror as my mind recalled the small flame on the stove, and a bigger, more inescapable fire. My mother looked apologetic. "Sorry..."

"It's alright." At least I didn't stutter. I turned around and exited the kitchen, feeling ashamed of myself. As soon as I was out of the kitchen, I sat myself down on the couch, doing my best to face _away_ from the fireplace. I put my forehead to my knees.

"It's not a doctor I need...it's a shrink."

Another lovely day.

- -

_**A/n**_: Yep, Chloe's a little scared of fire...so...I thank you for your reviews, and I hope to see your thoughts. Until next time...oh, and Happy New Year. : )


	5. Wait for the Rain

_**Chapter 5**_

The next morning, you could find me huddled with a book in the out-most corner of Mrs. Tussen's grocery store. The day was buzzing by slowly—the autumn rain had seen to that. It was drizzling again. The sky was swathed in muted grays that seemed to just cover everything in a blanket of silence. I just hoped it wouldn't turn into a fully-fledged thunderstorm, like last time. I had had the extreme pleasure of being caught outside in it—with a dog, to boot.

Sighing, I crumpled down in my seat further. I was absolutely_ freezing_. My fingernails were starting to turn blue at their bases, but I refused to go home; mom and I were still on battle terms, so I had conveniently marched my way to the grocery shop with my favorite book under my arm. Dante was curled around my feet, his nose twitching when hanging raindrops on the awning splashed down on his black snout.

Besides, it wasn't like I was missing out on much. Mom was most likely fussing over the laundry (again), and Aunt Lily was probably smoking and lazing about (again).

I put my book down, staring out into the pattering rain and watching it slip and slide over the asphalt of the road. It looked so clear, so shiny and appealing, but I knew it was deathly frigid. One drop on my head was enough to send me into a shivering fit. Maybe we'd have a blizzard. It was certainly_ cold_ enough. I hadn't seen snow since we moved. I wished for Icicle Lodge's wintry weather to miraculously blow towards us.

As I picked up my book again, a chin put itself in the crook of my neck, a voice whispering into my ear.

"How's my favorite girl?"

I whirled around, shock electrifying my body, and promptly whacked the figure behind me over the head with my trusty hardback. The figure gave a small cry of pain, and I recognized it to be Bernie. I did not regret hitting him.

"Why do I always get a reaction like that?" he asked, rubbing the sore spot on his brunet head with a hand. "Can't I have a: 'Hello, Bernie!' or at least a 'How are you today?' Must you always maim me with some object once I enter your immediate vicinity?"

"As long-winded as always, I see," I grumbled disagreeably, slouching over and trying to avoid his eager, brown gaze. I broke eye contact with him by lifting the book up further than I should have, had I been truly reading. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Mom doesn't know I'm here."

I barely repressed a groan of exasperation. The _last _thing on the entire Planet that I wanted was to be hounded by him all day! Why couldn't he just saunter off like he usually did?

"Well, then, go over there and sort the vegetables out."

"Aw, it's no fun without you, Chloe."

"Sing a song and work to the beat, or something." He seemed to consider it for a moment. "Wait! On second thoughts...don't."

"Make up your mind," Bernie said, pulling up a chair and sitting next to me. His boots left wet prints on the cement floor. "I'm going to stay here either way."

"Oh, joy," I murmured, snapping the book shut. I had the urge to ruffle my hair, but I knew that would make the braid come loose...and that's something I never wanted. "Can't you find someone _else_ to hunt?"

"No, Chloe, you're my favorite," he said, putting emphasis on the last word. "I said so, didn't I? It's your stubbornness that makes you so mysterious." A failed attempt at giving me compliment. He frowned, as if in thought. "You're not that easy to break."

"Am I some sort of wild chocobo that needs taming?" I snorted rudely through my nose, closing my eyes. "It's not my fault that I'm not some sort of drooling fan girl."

Bernie was quite the ladies' man, and I'll grant it to him—he was pretty cute. He had a handsomely built face, chocolate colored hair, and large brown eyes. It all came crashing down when he spoke, though. He could get as annoying as an entire cloud of gnats in the late summer. The fact that he hadn't left me alone since I moved from Nibelheim worked as a negative factor, too. The first time we met, he thought I had asked for his autograph, while I was really looking for Mrs. Tussen to sign some delivery papers for a bunch of produce. The guy had an ego the size of the Mako reactors.

The rain dripped steadily as we both watched. My mind was overloaded with ideas, thoughts, questions. I was not in the mood to speak neither laugh. Today was one of those days; the ones where you sit down and just feel useless for the entire span of twenty-four hours.

"D'you want to take a walk?"

"No."

"That was a fast response."

"Well, look at the weather, genius. It's _pouring_. Unless you like walking in subzero temperature rain..."

"Yikes! I just thought I'd ask. _Someone's_ grumpy today."

"I was fine till you came along."

"Always so mean! You hurt me, Chloe."

"That's okay." I shuffled around in my seat. Dante sat up, yawning and blinking. He set his head on my lap, warming my knees. I stroked his head absently as he shut his eyes again, drifting off in his new position. Dante's my best friend, as cheesy and monstrously corny that sounds. I don't really know what's going through his head, but I only hope he loves me. I know I love the sucker. He may be a trouble, but I'd rather have a ton of trouble on my hand rather than a dog who hates me.

"Bernie! You're finally here!" Mrs. Tussen's interruption was the best thing I could ask for. She wiped her wet hands on her apron and fixed her son with a reprimanding glare. "Did you sneak in through the back?"

"Uh...hi, mom."

"I've got some deliveries for you."

A groan came from Bernie.

"Now, no buts. I had Chloe doing your work yesterday, and she wasn't even rewarded."

"Chloe doing delivery? Sounds interesting..."

"Bernie!" Mrs. Tussen's bark was enough to send Dante's eyes shooting open. "You listen, and you listen well. You're going to do your job even if I have to chain you to a post so you can stay put. No more nights out, you hear?"

"Oh, come on!"

"I'm coming on," Mrs. Tussen replied steadily, looking quite determined. "You will not leave this house until you have filled your quota for deliveries!" Mrs. Tussen's family (Bernie, her husband and she), lived in the apartment above the grocery store. It was convenient for them, especially for Mrs. Tussen, who had a recurring problem with her back.

I took this opportunity (they were still bickering) to slip away unnoticed, Dante's leash wrapped firmly around my hand.

I stepped out of the shelter of the awning, and gasped at the shock of cold water on my scalp. The droplets gathered at my chin and splattered away onto my clothes. Dante, on the other hand, was completely blissful. His tongue was lolling out, as always, but his fur was now sagging with water. Oh, great. Wet dog. Just lovely.

"Quick!" That was the only word that needed to come out of my mouth, and we were soon racing home.

The biting air stung in my lungs, but it refreshed and invigorated them, and I felt much better than I had in months. At one point, we ran across the street and were nearly run over by a car ("Stupid kid!"), and it was one of the funniest things I had done for a long time. Most human beings with a sane mind would usually not consider nearly being run over 'fun,' but who was to say I was sane?

* * *

Tifa was glad that the counter looked neat. She couldn't stand having things strewn all over the counter's surface—it cluttered things up and didn't allow her to move effectively. It also hindered her movements when she reached for something. All in all, it was good to keep the counter's surface clear. This matter was a running battle with Yuffie.

The door to the bar swung open, and Tifa lifted her head. _Well, speak of the devil._

"Hiya, Tifa!" Yuffie strode in and plopped herself down in front of the counter. Her lips were slightly blue from the cold outside, and the top of her hood was dripping with rainwater. "Good thing I wore the jacket," she said, taking off the said article of clothing and shaking it out. Tifa watched in slight displeasure as globules of water flecked the counter.

"Anything exciting happen?" Tifa asked, swiping away the moisture with a small towel. "You were gone for a long time yesterday."

"Nothing much. The people in the market are boring! Last year's were amazing," Yuffie said, smiling widely, referring to the tourists and shopkeepers who ran the stalls. "But I _did_ find materia."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes! I kinda got into a glitch trying to get it, but it all worked out in the end," Yuffie remarked, looking proud of herself. She drew out a bauble of glowing blue from one of the many pockets of her newly-donned jacket, playing with it in her hands. "Isn't it lovely?"

"Quite," Tifa responded, eying the ball of energy. "Just how did you get it?"

"That's the tricky part," Yuffie noted, slipping the materia back into its pocket. "I think that girl was angry at me, but it's not like I'm going to meet her or anything."

"You mean to say someone else got blamed for stealing?"

"Eh...you could put it that way..."

Tifa shook her head, not bothering to say anything. Yuffie wasn't going to change her ways any time soon. The girl had good intentions, and a sharp, clear mind that was accompanied by ready wit. Her kleptomania had earned her positions in sticky situations more than once, but it wasn't quite often—Yuffie could be extremely subtle, and she used it to her advantage.

Tifa sighed. "You hopefully _won't _meet her again."

* * *

I pressed my head against the cool window. The rain sliding down the panes of glass were too close for my eyes to register, so all I saw was a blur of faint colors. Mom was in the kitchen, as predicted, and Aunt Lily wasn't in the house. Mom had said something about her trying to find another job. I had merely snorted and waved off the idea. It was hard to picture Aunt Lily working again.

For me, it was only a matter of time. I don't really know where I got my pessimistic attitude from. Here I was, sitting around, moping, thinking that it was only 'a matter of time' till I lose my only home and the bank throws us out into the streets.

Dante and I had been soaking when we entered through the front door. Mom was learning to take such things in her stride. I had apparently gone off my rocker in the past few weeks since she had told me about how our economic situation was going downhill, and now 'lived life to its fullest.' I had dried my hair carefully, almost reverently—and then proceeded to dry Dante...with a hairdryer.

Needless to say, it had taken about two full hours to get his fur into the condition it was before. Dante was sleeping, for yet another time. I don't know where he got all his energy from. Maybe it was because slept constantly.

I gave a small sigh (I seemed to be doing a lot of that lately), and let my burning cheek rest on the window, fogging it up. I felt quite disgusting. Could the rain have given me a fever? Even if it did, it'd be an excuse not to get up and lug things around with Bernie trotting behind me. I hadn't been sick in a long time. I probably wasn't sick. My immune system was pretty hardy, so even if it was a small cold, it wouldn't have a large effect on me.

The rain continued to come down in torrents outside. It was a soothing sound. I soon closed my eyes, and found myself drifting off...

I had several dreams, all of them incoherent jumbles of colors—the most prominent were a citrus orange and a blazing scarlet. In my dream world, I shuddered. I knew that fire was linked to these hues, and my eyes did not welcome the sight.

And then, I was suddenly being shaken awake, my eyes snapping open and wide.

"Wha—? Mom? What is it?"

Mom looked flushed, and yet strangely pale at the same time. Her hair was disheveled and wet, I noticed. Suspicion tickled my innards. Was there something going on?

"Chloe! Oh, thank goodness you're awake. You're such a heavy sleeper!"

"Is something wrong?" I asked sleepily, blinking and shifting out of my seat. Several bones cracked as I stretched. Mom burst into tears, and I sat up straight, instantly alert. "Mom?"

"It's Lily! I just got a phone call..." she said, clutching her handkerchief like her life depended on it. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped my shoulders. My heart pounded painfully. The tone in her voice made me think my head would burst if I didn't find out what she meant.

"What about her?"

"They—they described her perfectly. Chloe, she's been in an accident!"

* * *

_**A/n:**_ No, this isn't some pointless angst-filled addition. XD It's got its own reason. Can things get any worse for poor Chloe? :D Hope you enjoyed Bernie's entrance, and a huge fat thank you for all the reviews! : )


	6. Let the Games Begin!

_**Chapter 6**_

My head was whirling. I wouldn't be surprised if some sort of an angel swooped down and told me to get it out of the clouds. I could barely make out what was going on as mom and I clambered into a taxi hastily; she was still crying, I was still numb. She garbled out some sort of hospital address to the driver, who looked just as flustered himself.

The rain was still pattering down—I wished for it to stop, so the driver could see where he was going. The red lights were blurred into the flurries of rain as we wove through the streets, the unobtrusive taxi making its way to the hospital. Mom was resting against my shoulder, trying to keep her anxiety in check; I could feel her hands trembling, so I grabbed one of them.

There was silence. All we could hear was the rumbling the rain caused on the metal hood of the car. I felt alone, oddly, because Dante was not with us. He had been left behind with Mrs. Tussen in a rush as mom and I had ran out. I briefly wondered if he was alright, but pushed the thought from my mind when the taxi screeched to stop, sending sprays of water everywhere around its tyres.

My mother hastily stuffed some gil into the taxi driver's pocket. "Keep the change," she said in a hushed voice, and stepped outside. I quickly followed, drenched for a second time by the torrential rain. We were both sorry messes by the time that we reached the hospital's pneumatic doors. I was thankful for my sturdy jacket—my hair couldn't be saved, but at least my turtleneck was.

I shook out my braid the minute we stepped inside, my mother looked around and then clacked forward towards the reception, placing her pallid hands on the counter. The nurse behind the counter was startled for a moment when she caught sight of mom and I.

"My name is Constance Hayes. I received a call which reported that my sister—"

Why was she using her maiden name?

She was cut off when she looked in the other direction, and then a cry left her lips. My mind went blank when mom ran over to a rolling bed, and started jogging behind it. The nurses around the wheeled bed looked a bit dumbfounded, but I think they soon guessed she had a connection with the patient. I was soon following them, too.

I could hardly believe that the battered person on the bed was Aunt Lily.

Her usually neat button down shirt was singed and blackened. I knew exactly what had happened without having to take a second look. There was a crimson stain on the sheets around her abdominal area, and an oxygen mask covered her mouth—she was struggling to breathe. Her grip on the sheets was tight. I could see it from where I was standing.

"Hang on, Lil!" mom said, her voice shaking. She seemed scared to reach out and touch Lily's hand.

"What've we got?" there was a man behind us; a doctor, complete with the white coat and perfectly combed hair. I only prayed to every entity out there that this man was a damn good physician.

"She's losing blood fast, sir."

"Accident, yes?"

"Yes." There was a pause. "Blood pressure is dropping."

"Roll her in."

Mom and I were left standing in the corridor like idiots, gaping after the doctor and the nurses. They were calm, so calm, and irritatingly peaceful. That was my _aunt_! She was a person, not some sort of an object! I had the sudden urge to bury my head in my hands, but found I was too cold and uncomfortable to do so. Instead, I just rubbed my forehead and closed my eyes.

Mom sat down on one of the chairs stuck to the wall in the hallway, and promptly started crying. I sat down next to her and put a sore arm around her shoulder, careful not to allow my bad joint to crack in her ear. I was sure that was one of the things she least wanted to hear.

I wanted to say that Lily would be alright, that we'd go home soon. In all truth, I didn't know what would happen. The frightening intensity of that knowledge alone just made everything so much worse. I couldn't just fling out meaningless comforts, hollow promises.

So, I just sat there, the perfect definition of the word 'dope.' Mom and I dozed off against each other; the smell of antiseptic burned my nostrils in an unpleasant way, and I was feeling nauseated as I slept lightly.

Our half-nap was dozed by the sound of a thud. I thought someone had fallen in the hall, but it wasn't something as nice as that. The muffled sound of voices reached our ears.

"Charge at one-twenty."

"Clear."

There was that thud again. My throat suddenly felt tight. Mom leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, dear God. Oh, oh..."

I stayed beside her, not really knowing what to do. Outside, the afternoon looked as black as hell. Taking the plunge, I rested my head on mom's shoulders, and felt relief when she did nothing to push me away. She only continued crying.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Mrs. Tussen sat down on her chair outside the shop, sighing heavily when Dante placed his head in her lap. His eyes were large, questioning. She patted his head halfheartedly, remembering Chloe and her mother dropping him off abruptly at the store. She hoped that Mrs. Browne's sister would be alright.

She couldn't say that she liked the apathetic woman, but Lily Hayes wasn't evil, either. Mrs. Tussen main reason for her dislike was the cigarette butts on the ground and sometimes in the vegetables ("I had to put it out, didn't I?") really made her mood turn sour. Mrs. Tussen liked her cleanliness, and her vision of cleanliness did not involve cigarette butts.

Bernie had run off, yet again. She would truly have liked to know, what did he and his friends do in this horrid weather? He was constantly away from home—she was lucky to see him only once or twice a week. He had even gone for a month, once, which earned him solitary confinement in his room. There was just no sense in it. Yet another question unsolved.

Mrs. Tussen was startled from her haze when someone walked into the store's open front.

"Oh, hello there, miss Lockhart." Mrs. Tussen let a smile spread on he face. "What brings you here today?"

"Nothing special. Just need to pick up some vegetables, that's all. Actually, it's only a few peppers." The young woman returned the smile, shaking off her umbrella. "Quite the weather, isn't it?"

"Ah, yes," Mrs. Tussen said, getting up and dusting herself off. Dante moved from her side and went to Tifa, staring up at her with a tilted head. The girl stared back, a small expression of recognition making its way onto her countenance.

"I think I've met this dog before."

"You probably have," Mrs. Tussen noted, reaching for a brown bag and then the bell peppers in the corner. "He and Chloe are practically inseparable."

"Oh, that's right," Tifa said, remembering her encounter with the dark-blonde haired girl. "Dante, wasn't it?"

"That's his name," Mrs. Tussen confirmed. "This alright?" She showed Tifa the peppers, and the black-haired girl nodded.

"Just fine."

"Poor thing. Hope she's alright," Mrs. Tussen sighed, handing Tifa the brown bag. She noticed Tifa's confused expression and reprimanded herself for speaking out loud. "The Brownes had an emergency this morning. They left Dante here with me."

"Maybe it will be resolved by the morning," Tifa said, putting down gil onto the counter to pay for the peppers.

"Maybe it will," Mrs. Tussen agreed, sounding a little apprehensive nonetheless.

* * *

The next morning, I had awoken stiff and with clenched muscles. These had all been swept away when mom and I heard that Aunt Lily had pulled through; she had abdominal injuries and several second degree burns (one third degree, on her upper arm). It was recommended that she stayed in bed, but, being Aunt Lily, she wanted up and out as soon as possible.

To pacify her sour mood, I sat with her all morning, quite elated at the fact that my previously comatose aunt was perfectly lively and prickly. All my angst had amounted to nothing at all. She was back, full blast.

"I told you three hundred frigging times: you _cannot _smoke in the hospital!" I growled, snatching away the packet of cigarettes. I was wondering where she had gotten them, anyway. She had been in an accident, by Gaia! Where did she find the _cigarettes_?

"And I told you a thousand times: I need a damn smoke," she crowed, just as disagreeable.

"You _can't_ smoke. You'd damage your internal system," I argued, placing the pack of cigarettes on my chair and stubbornly sitting on it. It was a little late for her not to damage her system, but the least I could do was not to let her smoke so early.

"Aw, man! Look what ya did!" Aunt Lily complained, looking pained.

"It's for your own good."

"Yak-yak. That's why _I_ always carry a spare."

I gaped when she drew another packet of nicotine twigs from the breast pocket of her hospital gown. Before I could stop her, she flicked the lighter open, and I inevitably felt glued to my seat. She caught my look and smirked. Aunt Lily waved the small flame about, watching in interest when my eyes trailed its glowing path fearfully.

I tore my stare away, thoroughly shaken. "Stop it!"

"God, you really are grumpy."

She was definitely alright. If she had enough energy to wave the lighter in my face for the sake of solely scaring the crap out of me, she was just _fine_. She certainly didn't act like she had been in an accident only a few hours ago.

My irritation only tripled when I saw that she was smoking.

"At least have some respect for the other patients! Choking on your effing pollution isn't going to help anyone in here."

"Mind your tongue," Aunt Lily grumbled, her speech hindered by the cigarette.

"I'm going to _really _start swearing if you don't take that stupid thing out of your mouth!"

"Is that a threat, Sprout?" she asked amusedly.

"Quit calling me that!" I snapped, feeling belittled and useless. Mom was gone—she needed a break and caffeine, so I was stuck here with no way out. I'd have to take it and swallow my pride.

"Mrs. Hayes, perhaps I wasn't too clear about our hospital's policy on smoking."

I could just _hear_ the Hallelujah chorus being trumpeted in the distance. The doctor had arrived! Maybe he could set Aunt Lily in place and make her shut up, too. I barely stopped myself from giving the guy a well-deserved hug. If he could get her to be quiet, he'd be my hero forever! Even though I didn't know his name, I was determined to be on his side.

"Ah, Doctor Hanai. What a pleasant surprise," Aunt Lily said, puffing out an extremely foul smelling cloud of smoke purposely in my face. I sputtered and choked, shaking my head to clear my nose of the extremely heavy odor.

"It's also against the rules to abuse one's niece with their unsanitary habits."

That was it. As soon as I was out of this place, I'd erect a monument to this guy.

"She can take it." Aunt Lily turned to me, looking malicious. "Can't you, Sprout?"

"Put it out, shut up, and stay in bed," was my mechanical reply.

"Who's the abuser now, Doctor?"

"I'd actually say she has the right idea, Mrs. Hayes."

_Chloe: 1, Aunt Lily: __**nil**_.

I sat down in my chair again, watching smugly as Doctor Hanai reached over and plucked the cigarette from Aunt Lily's mouth coolly, and then held out his own hand for the packed he knew was there. She spitefully handed it to him, looking peeved.

"Now," Doctor Hanai continued, composedly crushing the cigarette into the nearby sink, "I came to ask you about the accident. The police are taking an account of it, since another vehicle was involved. I'd rather rally the information to them rather than you seeing them. With all due respect, Mrs. Hayes, I think it's quite about the last thing on your list to see the police."

"You guessed correctly," Aunt Lily said, crossing her hands over her chest. She winced for a moment, but it was soon gone. "Shoot."

"I'd like you to tell me what you remember."

I listened quietly. I didn't know what had happened, since I was never in here when Aunt Lily was talking—it had only been mom. Only recently had I camped out in the room.

"There's not much," Aunt Lily assured him, reminding him that she couldn't recall a lot. "All I remember was stopping at the red light at an intersection. Another car just kept coming from the other direction, and that was it."

"Was anyone else injured?" I asked, and they both turned to me. Doctor Hanai blinked behind his glasses before answering.

"No. No one was found in the car that rammed into your aunt's vehicle."

I nodded, resuming my silent witnessing. They talked for a while longer, discussing health topics like what her blood pressure should be, at what speed her heart should be beating, and so on. Doctor Hanai walked out of the room only when he had pounded into Aunt Lily's head that smoking was prohibited on hospital premises.

When the door squeaked shut, Aunt Lily sat back, her face unreadable.

"Hey, Sprout?"

"What?" I returned resentfully. I was getting annoyed at the recurrence of the nickname.

"That was all a bunch of bull."

"Wha-a-at?"

Aunt Lily chuckled darkly, her expression plummeting in a matter of seconds. I didn't like the change in the atmosphere.

"I don't think this was an accident."

I shifted in my seat. "Oh, come on. Now you're trying to tell me someone wants you dead?"

Aunt Lily shrugged. "It wouldn't be surprising."

"You think it's because of your job?"

"Most likely."

Aunt Lily _had_ worked before we moved to Edge—it was actually because of the Nibelheim razing that she had quit her job. Aunt Lily had been an office employer at ShinRa, previously, and I didn't really know much about it. I didn't know much about Aunt Lily in _general_, even though she was my mom's older sister. When I asked her about it, she had only told me she was a 'delivery-person slash secretary,' and always left it at that. After Nibelheim went up in smoke, she had handed in her resignation.

"Look at it sensibly," Aunt Lily said, sounding as if she was trying to explain something to a small child. "The car came at me through a red light, no one else was injured, and the police want an account of the events."

"It doesn't make sense at all, anyway. Unless there's some sort of assassins' faction running amok in the city, your theory doesn't add up," I said, trying to dismiss the idea of someone wanting to kill Aunt Lily.

"Ah, the irony in your words makes me laugh, Sprout," she said, leaning backwards into her pillow. "I think it's time that I told you something...just for your own safety, y'know?"

That had been the day I learned about the Turks.

* * *

_**A/n:**_ Don't worry, it'll come together, soon enough. I know you're not seeing much of the canon characters, but I'm a slow developer, and want to give the introductions their own time instead of rushing and turning the entire thing into a flop. ΧD But, yes, the characters _will_ appear, or else it wouldn't be fanfiction, now would it? :] Take the time to leave a review, if you could! :)

And because I'm such a forgetful person...

**Star Anise -** Thank you for your review. :D I'm glad you enjoyed! I'll do my best to continue.


	7. Semi Employed

_**Chapter 7**_

I sat back, trying to swallow every bit of information that I had heard. Now that I thought about it, my words really _were_ ironic. My mind seemed a bit more open now...I could be more suspicious about what I saw.

"So...you were one?" I said, growing afraid of the answer.

Aunt Lily glared at the smoking cigarette butt that had created a blackish-gray stain on the spotless white sink. I think she was dismembering Doctor Hanai in her mind. "Hm?"

"I'm asking about your job."

Aunt Lily finally seemed to understand what I was saying, and burst out laughing; this didn't exactly make me feel like I was on top of the world at the moment, but I couldn't really see what was so funny about my question. It was legitimate and serious.

"_Me_? A _Turk_?" she guffawed, holding her ribs and trying to keep her voice down. "Ooh, please, don't make me laugh! It hurts!"

"You haggard old crone," I hissed, extremely displeased. Sometimes _I_ felt like I was the mother here, and not the niece. "Couldn't you just act like your age? The past few hours have been hell!"

"Did I touch a soft spot, Sprout?" Aunt Lily grinned twistedly, looking pleased with herself. "Do I tire you?"

"Not at all!" I gritted out through firmly closed teeth, folding my hands over my chest and wishing that the chair would somehow grow wings and fly me out of this place.

"Well, then, I guess I'll just have to test you."

I think my brain sort of shut down at that moment. The barrage that came flying at me afterwards was so large that I could practically feel brick after brick of insults raining down on my head and smacking me in the face.

She didn't leave _one subject_ standing. She included it all. My commonly worn boots ("They're fashion's 'yesterday,' honey,"), my near obsession with keeping my hair up or in a braid ("Gotta let the dead cells breathe, ya know?"), and my fear of fire. There was not even a tiny piece of me that was left unscathed.

By the beginning of noon, I was starting to wonder whether Aunt Lily had been a reality-talk show host in a past life.

* * *

Mrs. Tussen tried and failed to keep Dante's enthusiasm curbed. The dog was simply too energetic for her to handle. He only seemed to maintain a semblance of good behavior when Chloe was present, but the sharply green eyed girl was nowhere to be seen. Bernie had dropped by the store and gone to visit Chloe, which was _sure_ to please her, and willingly left his mother alone with the dog once he saw him.

Dante and Bernie had a sort of space stretching between them. They didn't particularly like each other—Dante was always calm around Mrs. Tussen's son, but that didn't mean he wasn't wary. That dog was quite big, and Mrs. Tussen doubted that even Bernie could fight Dante off when he was set on catching someone.

On the other hand, Mrs. Tussen was quite pleased with herself. She was aware of the Brownes' precarious economical situation, and how they couldn't afford to lose the house. Mrs. Browne was a considerably kind woman, although a bit detached. Mrs. Hayes was simply in a category of her own. Chloe was a good girl, and she didn't deserve to lose her house again.

So, she had simply dug up a half-job for Chloe whilst she and her mother stayed at the hospital.

Tifa had mentioned once that she would have liked someone to give a helping hand around the bar, and Mrs. Tussen had taken advantage of that opening. Tifa simply needed someone to clean the dishes and do small things, like mopping the floor and wiping windows down. Tifa had been more than happy to offer when Mrs. Tussen had suggested it to her. After all, no human being has eighteen hands. The area around Seventh Heaven was becoming densely populated, slowly but surely, and a greater number of customers visited more often than before.

It wasn't a job, per se, but Mrs. Tussen knew that Chloe would be in need of the extra gil, no matter how minute the amount.

* * *

Over the days, my stamina was wore increasingly thin. Aunt Lily's jabs, coupled with Bernie's teasing, all but crippled poor little me. I had seen Dante only for a few fleeting moments before I had to return to the hospital to stay with Aunt Lily. It had now been over a week, and Doctor Hanai was ready to discharge Aunt Lily from the hospital. I think he was _happy_ to do so...couldn't blame him, though.

Aunt Lily retained her ever so freshly bitter personality, and continued to smoke when we got home. The house had finally taken a breath of fresh air, but it was now fouled up again. I couldn't really do anything about it...maybe I should have hid her cigarettes or thrown all of them out.

The minute I returned home, I was confronted by a leaping Dante, who was bouncier than I had ever seen him before. Mrs. Tussen brought him over, also coming as a harbinger of good news. She had secured some sort of an odd job for me!

This is the part where I put smiley faces all over my papers and whistled as I cooked for Aunt Lily (she'd look at me weirdly).

And when the day was over and done with, I sat back, enjoying the twilight from the stairs of the porch. It wasn't much of a porch, really, just a wooden deck and some stairs leading out into a small stone path—which, in turn, led to the tiniest gate you had ever seen. When one opened the gate, they stepped out straight onto the sidewalk. Luckily, the place we lived was quiet. You couldn't hear cars zooming past constantly. Instead, there was just the low hum of people talking and their shoes upon the pavement.

"You're smiling! ...Did you murder someone?"

If looks could kill, Bernie would be six feet under by now, perhaps even deeper. "I got a job."

"Ah, that explains it." He sat himself beside me, a little too near for comfort. Bernie was a close friend and all, but I don't like people touching me or getting close to me, whether it's Bernie or mom or anyone else. Just another weird quirk to add to the ever-growing list of quirks of mine.

"It's nothing extravagant, but it'll do," I said lowly, my eyes fixed on the sputtering rays of the sun as they slipped down the narrow passages between houses and disappeared from sight.

"I've got so much work..." he sighed, looking actually tired for the first time since I had seen him this week.

"Why? Mrs. Tussen's loading you up again?"

Bernie's eyes widened a little, and I caught onto his startled aura before he shut it away again and hung his head, still appearing lethargic.

"You deserve it," I huffed negatively. "I've been doing _your work_ for the past few months now. It's like you've completely vanished into thin air. We only know you're alive because you decide to visit us poor souls once in a blue moon."

"Hey! That's not true."

"It most certainly is."

"You're just transferring your complaints to me."

"Says he-who-takes-off-and-leaves-his-job-to-others."

"I've got a good reason, okay?"

That stopped me, and I turned to my right to take a good look at him. My braid slid away from my back and hung in front of my jacket. The weight of it tilted my head slightly towards the ground. "Oh, you do, do you? Come on then, I'm all ears."

"Eh..."

"Don't go down the 'eh' road! I know what you're going to do now. You're going to make up some half-assed excuse and take off, won't you?" I leaned forward, hoping to glare holes through his face. He cringed backwards for a few seconds, and then leaned forward, too, knocking his forehead on mine. I recoiled, horrified.

"You know me too well, Chloe," he laughed, springing up immediately. "See you later!"

"OY! Get _back _here, irresponsible coward!" I hollered, standing up after him and watching with a toxic glare as he vaulted the minuscule fence and jogged away into the street. Bernie turned around and playfully stuck his tongue out.

"Keep the insults for next time, Princess!"

"Procrastinator!" I called after him, my the alley elongating my word into an echo.

"Toodles!"

When he was gone from my line of vision, I fumed silently for a few seconds before speedily entering the house.

People were staring.

* * *

The morning after the humiliation, I was fired up and ready for attacking my newfound chores. I'd wash three thousand dishes if I had to—if that washing got us some money. I was so perfectly chipper that I could even waitress a little bit, although there was the possibility of me scaring the customers off. I've done it before, and I think I could do it again...

Dante had refused to leave my side the minute I stepped into the house; the only time he actually didn't follow me around was when he was either sleeping or otherwise incapacitated, which didn't happen often. As the situation would have it, he was obediently trotting behind me as I walked to Seventh Heaven.

The day was a complete opposite to the past week. Everything had been stormy and broody, dark and dank. But today, it was bright and the sky was azure blue. It was so large and clear that I felt a great relief. Hopefully, it would continue to have good weather. I was hoping for a sunny, but snowy winter.

I stopped just a step away from the door. It was peering down at me; the wood was asking for an answer! I gulped, feeling a tiny bit cowed. Would I be stared down by a door (which really doesn't have any eyes), or would I manage to plow inside? Just as my mind was deciding to give away to the first one, the door cracked open. It was only a little bit, but I could see the young woman I had met last time behind the door.

...Tifa, wasn't it? Yeah, that was it.

"Ah, hello!" she said warmly, and opened the door to its full extent. Dante peeked out from behind my legs, his eyes darting around in a curious manner. I could feel his tail thumping against the back of my leg. At least _someone _was happy about this. "I talked to Mrs. Tussen a week ago."

"You did? Well...eh...I think I'd just be a nuisance, frankly," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. A part of my brain was screaming in protest. Mrs. Tussen had probably gone through a lot of trouble to find me this job, no matter how away from the norm it was.

Tifa leaned on the door, looking just the tiniest bit more stubborn now. "You can clean, can't you?"

"...Yes."

"You can wash dishes, right?"

"Yes."

"You're not scared of spiders, are you?"

_What kind of a question is that?_ "No, not really." It was other things I was more scared of.

Tifa smiled now, her demeanor changing instantly. "I don't see why you'd be a nuisance."

Boy, this girl had a way of making you feel better about yourself. "Oh...really?"

"Really. Come on in."

I complied, feeling a twinge of uncertainty when Dante followed me inside. "Is it alright for Dante to be here? I wouldn't like him to mess your counter up again..."

She laughed. She seemed quite forgiving about the whole thing. I wasn't too pleased with Dante leaving gigantic paw-prints on the gleaming counter. Who knows what it took for that surface to look clean. "It's fine, really."

"If you say so..." my voice trailed off when Dante ventured out from behind my legs and starting sniffing at the bar stools. I gently hooked one of my hands behind his collar and tugged him back softly. The fur tickled the exposed parts of my hand and warmed it. I felt better with Dante around, for sure.

"Since today's Monday, there won't be many customers until well in the afternoon," Tifa said, walking behind the bar and bending down, looking for something. "Therefore, I'd like your help putting all the bottles in place. I don't want to get alcohol and juice mixed up. It wouldn't be very nice, now would it?"

"Not really," I agreed quietly, watching as she brought out a small crate onto the counter. I could see bottles of all shapes, sizes and colors looking out at me. Some were green, others were blue. Most of them were glass bottles, and they clinked together when the crate moved. "At your service," I said, my confidence rising in a small amount.

"Good to know," Tifa answered, smiling.

We sat down at the counter, and she began to point out where each bottle was supposed to go. By the time we got to the end of the first crate, I was feeling accomplished. When she showed me the other four crates that were waiting for us, I felt something minute inside me die. After we had worked together for a few minutes, Tifa broke the silence.

"So, would you like to tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"Sure...there's not that much to know," I chuckled, putting away a bottle of sparkling juice. "Uh, let's see...I'm from...Nibelheim," I murmured, wishing I was in my hometown. The autumn apples would have been harvested by now, and the baker's would be positively bursting to the seams in pastries and warm desserts. I vaguely remembered what our front yard looked like in autumn. It was wreathed in red upon red, oranges and decadent golden shades of leaves that crunched gloriously when you walked on them.

I quickly snapped out of my thoughts, continuing to speak to cover my jumbled ideas. "I live not too far from here, just a few blocks away. The house is really easy to miss...it's crammed between two buildings, but it's not too bad."

Tifa listened attentively as I went on.

"You know who Dante is," I said, craning my head downwards to catch sight of Dante lying below the space of the chair that I was sitting in. "Let's see, what else? Eh, my birthday's on the fourteenth of November. Yay, I'm becoming older!" I cheered sarcastically, setting aside another bottle of sparkling liquid.

"_It's my little girl's birthday! Of course we'd hold a party!_"

No, no, must not think of such things. They only make me depressed.

Tifa stopped, doing the math in her head. "That's about six days from now." She paused again, and then asked me, "How old are you? If you don't mind me asking."

"If I mind? Ask me anything you'd like," I said dismissively. "I don't mind any questions. I'm turning twenty-five."

"You're three years older than me."

"...Really?" I asked incredulously. If anything, I had thought of Tifa as my senior. She just radiated maturity from a mile away.

The door behind us opened, and Tifa turned. She stared at the person in the doorway (the figure really was short), and her face spread into a smile yet again. There was something awfully familiar about that outline...and the shuriken poking out from the folds of the cloak.

"Yuffie!"

* * *

_**A/n: **_...Is this story any good? Well, thanks to those who reviewed. You make me laugh and smile with your comments. More characters to appear! :]


	8. Yours Truly, Uselessness

_**Chapter 8**_

My brain felt dead.

_Felt _being the operative word. For the most part, I could only stare idiotically as Yuffie (I knew her name now!) came up and greeted Tifa, looking happy and energetic. I was sure—extremely sure—that this was the girl that had, however indirectly, caused the ailment in my right shoulder to flare up again. She was that _materia thief._ There was a large smile over her face.

I was not smiling.

At all.

"Yuffie, this is Chloe," Tifa introduced, gesturing towards me. There was a small growl below my feet, and Tifa added another sentence to her statement. "And that's Dante."

"Oh, nice to meet you."

She'd forgotten me, had she? Well, she just needed a tiny reminder.

"I think we've met before, haven't we?" I said in a low voice, setting aside the bottle for the fear that my grip would loosen and the bottle would smash into smithereens on the squeaky clean floor.

"...I don't think so." Yuffie's face was confused, her brow furrowed. She genuinely didn't remember. No matter.

"You gave me a present," I said, shrugging. "I'm no big fan of materia, but I'm always up for a gift."

Her eyes widened until they were the size of ping-pong balls. She seemed to remember now. "I-it's you!"

"Ah, you've remembered?" I asked, plastering a cloying smile on my face. "I'm very glad about it."

"Yuffie..." Tifa's voice had a warning tone to it. "This is who you were talking about?"

Yuffie rubbed the back of her neck, grinning a bit nervously. "I'm sorry?"

I stretched my arm slowly, then rolled my shoulder. It sounded like someone was snapping twigs. "The shopkeeper had a pretty strong grip."

She gulped, and then, something very uneventful happened. The anger inside of me died away, like a fire disappearing gradually in clouds of smoke. I was still very annoyed at her, but not as much as I used to be. After all, if she knew Tifa, she couldn't really be that bad...right? Even though I couldn't really dismiss the fact that I wanted to give her a good piece of my mind, I was willing to give her a chance...a small one.

I felt drained—not because of the work. Simply because of the fact that my birthday was coming up. Saying it to Tifa had actually reminded me that it was approaching in the near dates. It's not that I have something against birthdays or something...that'd be quite weird. I just don't enjoy having birthdays because it feels like inviting bad memories. They're not bad as in bad-unpleasant. In fact, quite the opposite...they're very_ happy_ memories.

I sighed, trying to shoo the unwanted details out of my head. "It's alright."

"Eh?"

"It's alright," I repeated, closing my eyes. I was too tired, and the day had barely begun. Where had my resolve gone? Maybe it had decided to take a break. It usually leaves me hanging in the most inappropriate of places and situations.

"Really?"

"As long as you pay for my medical bill," I joked, and saw that she had taken me seriously. "...I was kidding."

And it kind of flowed from on there. Yuffie turned out to be a pretty agreeable person, albeit very upbeat. Tifa roped her into helping us out in the bar, despite the fact that she groaned and moaned and went on about how she had more 'important things to do' besides 'scrubbing away like some slave.' To a normal person, going over the counter with a wet rag wasn't equivalent to the workload of a slave. I quickly learned Yuffie was anything but normal.

* * *

The afternoon was quiet—Dante and Yuffie got along together well, seeing as they had almost carbon-copy personalities. I hadn't really noticed the fact that most of the day went by in a flash. By the time I had blinked my eyes, it was early evening.

"So, do you live here?" I asked absentmindedly, stretching my legs. They had gotten stiff from too much sitting. Maybe I could take a walk later.

"Yep," Yuffie said. Her head was placed on her arms; she had assumed a sort of wilting-flower-position over the counter. I think she was bored. "Well, I don't. I visit. Tifa lives here, though."

"That's nice," I murmured sleepily. I hadn't gotten much sleep last night—I was up thinking. I should stop thinking hard. Harms the brain, I found. "My house is sort of lonely..." _Aunt Lily doesn't count,_ I added silently to myself.

"It's always livelier around with Denzel and Marlene," Tifa agreed, tossing a wet cloth into one of the empty crates.

"Who?"

"They're orphans," Yuffie explained, once again slicing away Tifa's chance to speak. "Denzel used to have the Geostigma."

I felt a chill trickle down my spine at the mention of the condition. That had been the thing to hit us hard when we moved to Edge, mom and I. We were not used to seeing children lurking the slums; many of them had been sporting purely black bruises. I had even seen someone bleeding black blood. This had been my first encounter with the Geostigma Syndrome. Mom went a little paranoid for a while, worried that I would catch it, but those worries ended when the cure for the Geostigma was found. At least, we _heard _it was a cure.

"Marlene's a sweetheart," Tifa said, her expression pleased. "She can be stubborn at times, but she's so intelligent for her age."

"Good to hear. We need smart kids," I noted, remembering my neighbor's children in Nibelheim. Cute kids, but if you told me that they actually had a brain, I wouldn't believe it. Dante shifted, placing his head on my lap. He was still pretty much asleep. What a lazy dog...

"You can say that again. I used to teach ninjustu classes," Yuffie mumbled through her arms. "I was seriously worried about killing one of my students." She smiled wide enough for me to see it. "But it was really fun."

"Kids can be fun," I admitted, "but only in certain cases."

There was quiet again; I could only hear the ticking of the clock. It was an orderly sound, one that defined neatness and symmetry. I wondered whether clocks could tell the exact time instead of being a few seconds off. But there I was again, thinking about things that have no answers.

A sound broke the silence—it was the sound of an engine rumbling. Was a car parking out in the front? No, it was a different sound than that of a car. One of Dante's ears swiveled backwards to the direction of the entrance, although he didn't open his eyes.

"He's back!" Tifa straightened, and got up from her sitting place. Yuffie snickered from her seat.

"Tifa's got a thing for Cloud."

I had no clue what they were talking about, but Tifa understood.

"I do not!"

"It's your denial speaking, Tiff."

Tifa just rolled her eyes and opened the door. These two seemed like really good friends. I started thinking about what they had been through together, because they just seemed...well...they really seemed to fit in well with each other. I envied people who had friendships like that. I hadn't experienced something of the like, but I knew that friendship was a gem.

"What a day..."

The voice was male, and whoever he was, he sounded tired. Now both of Dante's ears were pricked upwards.

A person stepped through the door. He was fairly tall (from where I was sitting, mind you), and had blond hair. It was actually blonder than mine...and spikier. _Definitely_ spikier. I almost quirked an eyebrow at the gravity defying hair. A picture of a chocobo popped up in my head, but I pushed it back. The dude was most certainly not a chocobo. He was very human, and appeared a little exasperated. The blue of his eyes almost seemed...unnatural. It rang a fierce alarm bell in my mind, screaming out 'familiar!', but I couldn't quite pinpoint the image in my head.

_There you go again! Being suspicious_, my inner-self reprimanded me, and I blinked to dispel my thoughts. I had too many of them.

"Welcome back to the fortress of simplicity," Yuffie called from the table, waving a hand in the man's direction. She cupped a hand over her mouth in a circle. "Introducing Chloe Browne, victim sixty-four."

Again, I hadn't the foggiest as to what she was referring to.

The man sighed. "Again?"

"Hey, my love for materia has gained me a new friend!" Yuffie protested.

_Sixty-four?_ _That's a helluva number...and I'm not your friend just yet,_ I thought to myself, stroking Dante's head. I had the faintest hint that Yuffie knew that, too. "Uh...hi?"

"Hello," the man said shortly, placing something on the counter. It was a cellphone. And a very black one.

"Chloe's help is going to lessen the work around here a lot," Tifa remarked, taking a seat again. "Deliveries successful?"

"Successful, yes, but also demanding."

"Naw, cheer up, Cloud," Yuffie said, getting up. "Couldn't be _that _bad."

"Maybe you should try it out next time," the man named Cloud suggested, meaning it.

"I think I'll pass," Yuffie quickly interjected. "I've got lots of things to do."

"Speaking of things to do," I said, taking my chance, "I'd better get home."

"See you tomorrow?" Tifa asked, looking in my direction. I nodded.

"Sure," I answered, getting up. My illusion of Cloud's height was broken. We actually almost stood eye-to-eye, now that I was up. Dante blinked a few times before getting to his feet. Poor thing, he was still sleepy. I clipped his lead on. Before I left, I offered a small wave, feeling positively tiny. As I walked away, I wondered, how could I ever impose on such a kind person? I felt like I was leeching on Tifa's hospitality. In short, I was quite useless. Unless, of course, you counted griping and physical education.

I liked to read. Yeah, but it wasn't a strength, was it? 'Oh, sir, I'm here for my job interview. I can _read_. You know, give me a book, I'll finish it by the next morning.' Yes, that would get me _far_ in my career path.

I puffed out my cheeks slightly, displeased. I thought over my other strengths. I could run well. My endurance was a complete flop, but I was passably fast while it lasted. I couldn't fight for my life, except maybe throw a few punches. Give me some sort of a stick or whatever, and I'll kill anyone within a three-meter radius purely out of clumsiness.

I didn't even _want _to breach the topic of guns. Dad had tried to teach me about hunting, but I had promptly given up on doing anything when I learned that hunting involved killing animals. From then on, it had been strictly target practice with fake plastic men. Mom had freaked out when she learned dad was teaching me to handle guns, so that avenue was shut off very soon. I had learned a few things...question was, could I remember them?

All the while, I didn't notice Dante's ever-growing wariness. He started sticking closer to me, and then begun to look around, as if he was searching for something. By the time he was sniffing and growling in his throat shallowly, I was aware of his behavior.

"...Dante?"

He still didn't respond to my query. He continued to smell around me, and then suddenly came to a stop. He didn't even move when I tugged at the leash. Dante glued his nose to the ground, and became completely absorbed in his own world.

"Oy, Dante. Watcha doing?" I asked quietly, still trying to figure out the reason behind this sudden sniffing. Did he smell something threatening? Was it interesting? Completely harmless? I didn't know, since Dante couldn't talk.

Dante jerked the leash out of my grip, and it trailed behind him. We were soon engaged in a chase that really could have been avoided if my grip hadn't been so lax.

I groaned in irritation, hoping that we'd get home soon. Mom would blow her stack if we didn't come on time, and _I _was going to be the one whom her wrath would be unleashed upon.

Before I went any further, though, something very strange happened that made me feel like I was in a corny action movie.

A hand grabbed my mouth, and then I felt it circle around my neck, drawing me back up to someone that I couldn't see just as of yet. My screams and curses were all muffled by the palm over my mouth. Dante barked, the world went mad.

The dull gray of the buildings started swirling, and then I realized I couldn't breathe. I raised my own hand in a jerky motion to try and make the person relinquish their grip on me, but I found that whoever was holding me was too damn strong for me to do anything. I struggled, I spat, I hissed; my legs kicked out as I fought to bring oxygen into my lungs.

I heard everything as if there was a sheet over my head.

"What are you doing? Man, you shouldn't knock her out!"

"I _know_ _what_ I'm doing."

"You're a trainee, so no, you don't. Move over, yo!"

"Not a chance in hell."

Who were these people? What in the blistering blazes was going on? I could see Dante's figure receding, the red leash dragging behind him like a bloody banner. All the colors were fuzzy now...

"Make yourself useful and catch the mongrel."

"Don't give _me _orders!"

I started to choke. I needed to breathe, _now_. What was this going to accomplish? I didn't do anything wrong! With a by-the-book person like mom, it was impossible to actually _do_ anything without feeling guilty about it. Dante's outline disappeared behind the corner of the street, and all hope within me died. Dante had left me.

Someone came into sight in front of me, completely blocking off my view of the close to abandoned street. I blearily saw a blue blazer and a white button-down shirt that was half opened. A card was pinned sloppily to the front of the blue blazer.

_ShinRa ElectricPower Company. _

_No. 4675_

The name below was hidden by the blazer's folds, but I could tell that the name began with an R. Or a B. I didn't know, because my vision was starting to blur together. ShinRa...there were two things linked to that name.

"You weren't supposed to take action!" said one of the voices. The speaker rolled his speech ever so slightly. "Do you know the meaning of 'watch?'"

"Would you rather I let her go?" the sharp voice behind me asked. The grip around my mouth and neck tightened. I would die. This was the end, I was sure of it. I'd choke, I'd suffocate, and then my body would be tossed and no one would come to the funeral anyway.

The person in front sighed. I caught sight of a wisp of hair—it was bright crimson, and very fine. "Alright. We'll deal with it when she wakes up."

The grip was squeezed around my neck just a tiny bit more tightly, and then I started to see black dots. My breath was now completely shut off from my windpipe and lungs. I didn't want to black out. What was going to happen to me? My thoughts ran through my mind so fast that I couldn't comprehend them at certain points.

These people were from ShinRa.

What did that name say to me? It said Aunt Lily, and it said SOLDIER. That was all I could dig up from my brain. I finally understood what had been nagging me about Cloud's eyes.

My last idea was choked from my mind, like my pathetic attempts at breath.

They were SOLDIER's eyes.

* * *

_**A/n:**_ -evil laughter- And now, ladies and gentlemen, the real deal begins! It will take a few chapters to wholly explain the plot, but you should be assured that I've got it planned out. This isn't just going nowhere for no reason. XD There are still lots more twists to come. Until next time! :D


	9. Of Unsound Mind and Unsound Body

_**Chapter 9**_

When I woke up, I felt like there were a thousand angry chocobos manically pounding out the polka in my head. That did _not_ feel good.

It did not help that my hands were pinned to my sides. I tried moving. I failed.

_Tied up?!_ I nearly burst with the indignation of it all. One minute, I was living my normally boring life, and the next moment—KAPFOOM! Everything is exploded into oblivion. Unless the dodos who did this didn't get it, I _did have_ a boring life, and I would have liked it to stay that way.

"Hey, genius. She's awake."

I started violently at the voice. I made myself look up, but the headache didn't really allow me to see things clearly. Everything around me looked like it was being pulled apart; then the images converged on each other quickly, and the surroundings sharpened into understandable outlines and shapes.

Firstly, where was I?

I let myself observe the room for a while longer.

It was a bland place; dark brown walls that looked white in some places stared dully out at me. The floor was parquet that could easily have been over a century old. It creaked at the slightest of movements. A cold breeze blew through the room. I knew about it because the draught was hitting me directly on the neck. Boxes were strewn around everywhere; some had styrofoam spilling out of them, others were just empty and dusty, taking up space for no reason at all.

I turned, the ropes tugging at me. I nearly yelped when I saw that I was practically sitting back-to-back with a half open window. _That_ was the source of the confounded breeze! The lighting wasn't too different from when I had been kerplonked over the head, so it must have been only half an hour at the least.

"Hello there, miss."

My head snapped so quickly into its original position that my vertebrae cracked. Now, I was facing a guy that was probably the same age as me.

_That red hair!_ I struggled in the ropes. God, these were tight! Who did they think I was?! Some sort of first-class terrorist? A first class _anything_ couldn't have gotten out of these stupid bonds. The man had two stripes coming down diagonally from his eyes—tattoos? A pair of goggles was all that was keeping the bangs out of his face and pale green eyes. The rest of his bright colored hair was drawn back in a ponytail. He was _grinning_.

Oh, how I wished my hands were free.

"I bet you're wondering what's going on."

"Damn straight!" I cried, finding my voice suddenly. "Where the hell am I? Who the hell are _you_?!"

"I thought you'd like to know." He crouched down before me, looking me straight in the eye and shutting me up promptly. "I need to ask you some questions."

If this kept going on any longer, my heart's ventricles wouldn't be able to take it. "What questions?"

"Hm...how to phrase this...? Have you ever handled or delivered a specimen?"

"...A _specimen_?" was all I said after a pause. "Specimen for _what? _What in the world are you talking about?!"

He looked at me thoughtfully, as if he was calculating my answer. "Are you lying?"

"No!" I protested vehemently, my heart withering. "I don't understand this! What's going on?"

The man sighed. He turned his head to the right. "You sure we have the right person?"

The next voice spoke from the shadows, which made me jerk around in the ropes. I had no idea there was someone else in the room besides me and this weird guy. "Depends."

"That's a helpful answer," the redhead snorted. He turned back to me, watching me. I felt vulnerable and helpless, trussed up like this. He leaned forward, making me move backwards. My back pressed up against the wall. He rolled back onto the ball of his heels, frowning. "She doesn't have blue eyes."

I wanted to say, _Don't talk about me as if I'm not in the room!_ ...Another part of me said it would be wiser to stay silent, and I decided to listen to it for once.

"Well, then, check for the birthmark on her neck."

"Sorry about this, miss."

The next moment was extremely uncomfortable, because the collar of my jacket was pulled down—he really did want to check whether I had a birthmark on my neck or not. A memory in my mind prickled, but I didn't know what it was.

Another sigh. My collar was folded into place again.

"Told you you shouldn't have knocked her out."

There was a insufferably loud squeak as someone stepped out into the light. He was wearing the same suit as the other one—only this guy wore it as if it had just come straight from the iron. I couldn't see a messy crease anywhere on the spotless white button-down or on the navy blue blazer. His hair was a sere shade of stone, and fell easily to his shoulders. A large bang was covering his left eye. The eye that was uncovered was what scared me the most, what with its color of ashen gray. It looked _dead_.

That same eye narrowed at me.

"So you would have talked it out in the street."

"We don't even know if she's got information," redhead countered, and then muttered something like 'should've brought Rude along.'

Who was being rude? I made myself sit up, and directed a question at them. "What d'you want from me?"

"Just some answers," said scary-eye, looking me over. "What's your name?"

"Like I'd tell you," I recoiled, trying to get away from him. There was a vibe about this guy that I didn't like at _all_.

Suddenly, something very cold and sleek was pressed to my right temple. I let out a short, high cry when I recognized the coldness to be a gun.

"Would you like rethink that?"

Something told me he was not joking. Idiot, he was sounding so gentlemanly, too! It was just my name—my name! I had to lie. I knew that within seconds. I didn't even _like _my name, and here it was, threatening my life. My mind snapped. I had always wanted to be named—

"Iris."

He leaned forward, his insufferably long bangs nearly brushing my nose. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, feeling the gun slide against the hot skin of my temple.

"Your clothing says otherwise."

I was yanked forward by my jacket. He had looped his finger through a small tag on my jacket that had green letters embroidered in it. The tag proudly announced: "_Property of Chloe Browne._" Dang it all to heck! I would place some sort of curse on mom's regime of order.

"You have guts." Supposedly a compliment, sounded more like a warning. "Lying to me..."

"Ho there, Tyr," redhead waved his hands up in the direction of what seemed to be his workmate. "'Member what I said?"

The word 'trainee' stuck out in my mind like a thorn. I gulped. If anything, scary-eye didn't seem to be a trainee. Even the _wrinkles _on his blazer looked symmetrical!

"I know what I'm doing."

Redhead gave a sound of exasperation. "You're like a broken record, yo! Listen to someone who has experience."

"She _lied_."

And I couldn't take it anymore. "What would you have done?" I asked, squiggling away from the gun.

Big, fat mistake. In case you're wondering which move I meant, it was both.

"You really _do_ have guts."

The ropes were sliced away from my sides, and then, to my horror, I was dangling inches off the ground.

* * *

Dante had run as fast as his feet would have allowed him. At first, his primary instinct was to get home. But when he did arrive, the front door was locked and barred. He couldn't enter through the backyard—the fence was too high, and there was absolutely no way of digging underneath it. It ran through the ground for many a meter, and was definitely too deep.

He sniffed around; from what he could tell, both other residents were gone from the house. Their most recent scents led away from the porch.

Then, he had scampered off to Mrs. Tussen's, the second most familiar place to him. He and Chloe frequented the store, so it was only natural to go seeking Mrs. Tussen. After running at full tilt for roughly a minute, he had skidded to a stop in front of the grocery store—only to find it darkened and shut.

There was a sign of human writing pressed up against the small glass window of the door, but Dante could not make heads nor tails out of it. All he knew was that it was a very dark blue and square in shape. This meant that the store was off limits, or closed.

For a few moments, Dante was oblivious as to what to do. When a not-so-old scent of Chloe hit his nose, he had gotten a shock. Moments later, he was searching about the area, following the trail until he came to a stop in front of a very compact looking entrance.

He had sat in front of the door, and scratched at its wood with his paw. There was someone inside, he knew it. Maybe they couldn't hear him? He sat for another few moments, and that is when he had begun to get anxious. There was trouble brewing, yet no one was around to witness it. Dante had to do _something_!

Patience snapping, Dante lifted his head and barked until he was sure the entire neighborhood was up. He got proof of it soon enough.

"Someone, shut that stupid dog up! It's early, but _some people_ need sleep!"

A window slammed. There was quiet again.

This time, he added a howl for the extra punch.

"What did I just _say_?!"

A light across the street flicked on, and a woman's hair-roller endowed head popped out of a window.

"_**Quiet**_!" Her voice was disproportionate the her size. The window slid shut once more, and the light clicked off.

This was getting tiring. Dante scratched the door lightly with his paw, whining. There was a thunking sound somewhere inside the room behind the door. A muffled voice became evident as it got closer and closer to Dante. Finally, the door opened.

"Really, why does it always have to be—"

Dante barked up at the short haired girl, recognizing her as the one with the materia-like scent. No doubt she was in contact with materia constantly; she had that sort of cold metallic smell around her that had a tinge of freshness in it.

"Well, what've we got here?" she asked, lowering herself down so she could stare Dante in the eye. "Where's your owner, buddy?" The girl picked up his leash and trailed her hand down it, seeing that he was dragging the leash behind him. "You're the one with Chloe, aren't you?"

Dante barked again, trying to make her understand. It was Chloe he wanted to find. He walked halfway out into the street and back again. When the girl seemed to look puzzled, Dante pulled at her shorts to communicate to her that she had to follow. He didn't have time to do anything else before another person entered the room.

"What was it?"

"I don't know, Tiff...it's Chloe's dog, and he's alone."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and his leash is still on."

Dante whined, growing impatient. He had to make them understand that something bad was happening. How, though? How could he do something when he could not speak to them the way Chloe did?

* * *

I tried my hardest not to freak out. Really, I did. I still failed, though. I was still being held up because of one, tiny (stupid!) comment that I had made. My mind was a little stopped up, being clogged up with the fuzz of unnecessary ideas. Well, I tried to look at the bright side. At least I knew _both _these guys' names. Scary-eye's name was Tyr, and the redhead was called Reno. I picked the latter up from the now not-concealed identification pinned to his shirt.

"Don't make it a repeat of last time," Reno warned, sounding wary. Was he talking about me, or something else?

"Hmph."

And I slumped to the ground, trying to catch my breath and rubbing the part of my throat which had been irritated by the constriction of my shirt. I coughed a few times, my windpipe feeling sore.

"And that is why you're still a trainee."

I hadn't meant to listen to the words, but the whisper was loud enough to be heard. Tyr's fists tightened. He didn't look too agreeable at the moment, although I doubted he looked agreeable at _any _time of the day.

I stood up on shaky legs, finally feeling oxygen circulating to my brain again. Remind me to never tick off scary looking guys. I let myself lean against the wall, because I frankly didn't want to stand up on my own or catch the attention of scary-eye.

When all of this was over, I'd book a nice place over at Costa del Sol, and I'd just sit there for months until I had even forgotten my name.

"You!"

The voice of Tyr was so sudden and something so intrusive in my hazy thinking that I backed up straight into what I thought was a pile of crates. I thought I had knocked into the crates with such force that my legs were cut off beneath me; I judged that the crates' sides came up roughly to the back of my knees.

At first, I thought that I was going to land _inside_ a crate.

What I think at first is usually wrong. In this case, I was horribly mistaken because of my poor judging of distance and my fear addled brain. Instead of just knocking into a crate, I had brought myself to a parallel with the thin window sill. That had been what disabled my balance when I backpedaled into it, not the crate.

In this situation, I discovered I was wrong when I found myself tumbling head first out of the open window.

* * *

_**A/n**_: She's gone and done it now, hasn't she? Sorry for the late update. This chapter was ready a long time ago, but school and a busy weekend didn't allow me to put it up. Thank you for the reviews! They were all greatly helpful last chapter. :D See you next time. :]


	10. Run, Sprout, Run!

_**Chapter 10**_

My first instinct was to scream—scream until my lungs burst, until all the windows around me imploded from the sound. My short-circuited brain's plan was interrupted when I hit a surface of tiles with an amazing amount of force. I heard my body thud against the tiles, felt the breath get knocked out of my lungs. My braid slapped me in the face mockingly as my bad shoulder snapped painfully. I came to a slow stop. I opened my eyes, and saw that I was currently lying on a sloping surface of red tiles.

_...Sloping?_

A tile creaked below me, and then, with a vengeful crack, came loose beneath my weight. The tile jerked away, and I rolled off again, the world blurring into slivers and whirlwinds of colors that I couldn't tell apart. This time, I really did do a semi-scream because I had, number one: the time, number two: the breath. Well, didn't have much of on the latter one.

I wanted the slope to go on forever, or somehow to continue safely to the ground.

Alas, my expectations are always crushed.

Within ten seconds of rolling, I found myself falling through air. There was nothing below me this time. Or was there? I couldn't tell. My head was turning so fast that you could've placed a spinning top on it and I would have started it off.

And then, abruptly, like the time after I woke up, everything came into horrifying focus for a split second. I turned to face something that was shining—something that was throwing away the dying rays of light from its surface. Below that glittery whatever it was, there were large splotches of green. In my mind, the 'glittery thing' registered as glass.

Glass was brittle. It broke. Glass was _sharp_.

That's when I realized in what a crappy situation I was.

Whoever is up there, out there, or below there pressed the 'play' button on the world's remote, and suddenly, I was falling again with frightening speed. I barely had any time to think before I hit the dome of glass.

I heard a tremendous shattering sound. The world around me sparkled and thousands of my reflections looked at me through myriads of fragments of breaking glass. Falling through glass isn't as bad as one would suspect at first. It isn't all that bad on impact, since it breaks, but the bad thing comes afterwards.

I gasped when something slid across my right cheek instantaneously and left a hot trail of pain behind it. What happened next can only be described as something extremely weird. I was engulfed by waves upon waves of dark green, and I felt coolness all around me.

I had no time to enjoy the relief the darkness brought, because I fell onto something _else_. No, it wasn't more glass, nor was it more tiles. It was something wet, cold and...smooth? I blinked at the surface before me. I was sitting in the branches of a _huge_ tree. And the said branches had just been doused in water or the plant had been watered. Whichever it was, I really _couldn't care less!_

I sat up, or, rather, tried to sit up. My bad joint felt limp and useless, and the arm hurt slightly whenever I tried to move it. I thought my 'adventure' had ended here. It was really getting annoying how many times my guesses went wrong. When I _tried_ to sit up, I slid down the biggest leaf I've ever seen. It was four times my width and almost double that in length. It served as a slide. I went slipping down, getting drenched in the process.

I tumbled to the ground, and stood myself on my knees while I tried to get my orientation and sense of balance back. The place I was in _was_ slightly dark, and it smelled like earth after a good rain.

_Greenhouse?_ I thought incredulously, supporting myself on one of the trunks of the trees and standing up. I looked around, and found something that made me cry out in joy.

There was a large, phosphorescent sign that screamed EXIT at me. An arrow pointed straight ahead of me, so I decided to take the risk and follow the red arrow. I took a step forward, and then I heard something. I strained my ringing ears. It was a voice.

"She should be down here."

"Just let her go. She's no use, yo."

"I won't. Something tells me that she knows who we're looking for."

"No shit! They're relatives, if you don't remember."

"I remember just fine! Now shut up and help me find her!"

"Look at all those plants. I don't want to get caught in no thorns!"

It was those two weirdos again! What in world did they want with me? How did they even get down where _I_ was?! I mean, I'm flattered at the attention, but if attention means that I'm gonna have a gun pressed to my forehead every three minutes, no thank you!

My feet took up a life of their own, and I squelched through the silt, happy that I had worn my boots today, just like all days. I was soon running through the greenhouse, following the arrows. They were my guiding light in this hunter green twilight. Finally, after trudging through what seemed endless amounts of scrubs and tropical plants, I was greeted by the sight of a large door (which, of course, was _also _made of glass).

At that moment, another sound emerged behind me that made me stand stock still. It was the sound of crunching leaves. I turned, half-scared of what I would see. Well, Idid see something that scared me.

Scary-eye glared at me with enough force to burn a hole through my head. Yeah, that's about when I decided to _get the heck out of there! _I didn't even wonder how they managed to follow me. The way I had 'left' was not the most orthodox and comfortable way to exit a room.

I can safely assure you that I have never run so quickly, so hastily in my entire life. No, I hadn't run half as fast when the baker back at Nibelheim had caught me nabbing a pastry nor when I was trying to escape the ministrations of Bernie or my mother. It's like something in my mind had snapped at that very moment, and all I knew was that I _had to get away._

Unfortunately, my endurance did not fit under the same category as my speed (this is the reason why I only did sprinting at school!), so I started huffing after about thirty seconds of my horrid running. I wasn't about to let that stop me. I'm sure I had enough adrenaline to last me for twenty four of my lifetimes.

The door came so mercifully close, and when I zoomed past it, I felt this great big wave of relief. My relief couldn't be celebrated, though, because I bumped into an elderly man who looked quite angry. His wrinkles elongated and shrunk as he spoke.

"Are you the one who fell through the roof?! What were you doing up there? Have you seen what you did to my dome?"

Yikes. That was the owner of the greenhouse, and he did _not_ sound pleased with me. Well, _excuse _me, sir, I just fell out a window and have an extremely frightening psycho on my tail. Did I mention that said psycho has got a _gun _and he knows how to use it?!

"I'm so sorry, sir," was all I managed to gasp out before racing off again. When I started running once more, I realized that I was now out in the open streets—concrete, cars and all. Oh, this would be fun.

I could hear scary-eye's shoes clacking on the cement behind me. I sure in hell did _not _want to be caught, especially by this guy! As I approached a wall, I felt something yank my jacket. _It's all over_, I thought frantically, _he's caught me and I'm done for!_ But Lady Luck seemed to be on my side, for a rare moment. When I stopped suddenly, it sent scary-eye forward. I took advantage of the situation and made him do a horrible thing. As soon as I felt his weight coming forward, I ducked. This movement of mine caused his head to go crashing into the wall in front of us.

Hell, yeah! Take _that, _Sir Snooty!

He let go of my jacket and I shot away, running for all I was freaking _worth_.

Yes, my legs felt like they were going to fall off at any minute, but I'd rather be sore for an entire week instead of allowing myself to get nabbed by scary-eye.

* * *

Dante had nearly driven himself crazy with worry. He couldn't get his point across! But he couldn't give up now. His determination was being powered by the prominent image of Chloe, unconscious, being dragged away by the one that smelled eerily like gunpowder and the dry-cleaner's. He circled around the short female, half-barking, half-whining.

He ran out the door, standing there for a moment, letting the leash catch up with him. There was a series of clinks as the loop of metal on his collar that connected him to the leash was banged against its clip when he paced meaningfully.

"Hey, Tifa? I think he wants me to follow him..."

Dante barked, ecstatic that she was starting to react by walking towards him. He walked further away, and when the girl's steps did not falter, he started running away in the direction where he had seen Chloe last.

"Yuffie, wait!" Tifa yelled as the kunoichi followed the large dog. When Yuffie turned and quickly waved her hand in a gesture that indicated her for her to come along, she sighed. There go the plans of a peaceful evening and dinner with Cloud. She sent a call up the stairs of Seventh Heaven. "I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back, okay?"

"Alright," came Cloud's response from upstairs.

Tifa closed the door behind her and jogged across the street to catch up to Yuffie and Dante. When she was finally beside Yuffie, she asked a question. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"I don't know," Yuffie answered honestly. "Don't you think it's worth it to follow him?"

Dante turned to both of them and barked his confirmation. Then, he continued trotting down the street. They had taken several twists and turns, and although the streets were not unfamiliar to Tifa, the darkness was going to be complete in less than half an hour. It wasn't a good idea to stay out too late.

Dante simply followed the freshest scent of Chloe he could find. The concrete smelled of many different things—car exhausts, tar, nicotine, beer—but somewhere amidst all of that was the musty tang of a leather jacket and what could only be described as Chloe. He was trying to avoid following the paths that he knew would lead them back to the house, because that was certainly not where Chloe was.

After a few minutes of trying to decide which alleyway to take, he took his chances with the one on the right and followed it out into the street. His decision made him happy, because here, he could smell Chloe's scent on the ground. She had been here, he was sure! And it wasn't an old haunt of theirs—this was recent.

All three of them were startled when there was a sharp clack from their left. Yuffie tilted her head in the direction of the noise, and the little team watched as a very grumpy and venerable man waddle away from a pay phone, his face contorted by an ugly scowl.

"Damn kids, nowadays. My roof, my poor roof!" He stalked past them, his facial expression so dark it could conjure a month's worth of autumn storms. "Unheard of!"

All three followed him with their gazes as he hobbled past them, looking positively murderous. Abruptly, he swung around to face them, and they jumped back slightly—it was easy to see he wasn't in a good mood.

"Eighty-six years I've been living, and a quarter of that have I been running my greenhouse!" he told them, waving one hand irritably. "Sixty one years—my greenhouse has been in impeccable condition! Look at that hole! Just _look _at it!" He pointed to the top of a glass dome; there was a gaping break in the seamless surface. The jagged ends of the glass stuck out hideously. Something had obviously broken it with a lot of force.

"And you know what?" he continued, going slightly red in the face. "She only said 'sorry,' and ran off! I mean, is that all you say after you've destroyed someone's property! Don't even get me _started_ on the two goons that came afterward!"

Tifa and Yuffie exchanged an unsure glance.

"Sir?" That caught his attention. Tifa stepped forward. "Do you know where that girl went?"

* * *

My lungs felt like...they actually felt like coffee filters. They were dry and fluttery, and I could scarcely breathe, but I dared not stop myself from running, because I was sure they were both behind me. I didn't let myself look over my shoulder. It would possibly scare me more than I wanted at the moment, and I wasn't quite certain how much more stress my brain could take.

And abruptly, I was faced with a dead end.

I stared up the wire fence blocking the narrow alley, thinking only one thing.

_Oh, shit._

What was I going to do? Where was I going to hide? My chest heaved with exertion as I struggled to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide so I could think in a clearer manner.

I pushed myself to the fence and started climbing up. Better late than never, no? And besides, they weren't here yet. I slipped once or twice. When I was at the top, I lost my foothold and my jaw scraped the metal bar at the top of the fence. I felt something scratch my chin. Wincing and cursing my shaky limbs, I put one leg over the fence, only to have something snag my jeans.

I nearly threw up when I saw what I was practically sitting on.

I seriously had no common sense. I had to learn to think before I went running to save my ass, because I'd wind up killing myself instead of saving my worthless skin.

I was actually crossing over barbed wire. Most of the barbs were dull, and it was aged, but I had felt absolutely nothing. Praising the heavens above that I wore gloves, I continued my hazardous (and stupid) ascent.

I was now hanging on the other side of the fence when my hands, weary and trembly as they were, gave out. I fell a very short distance to land in something surprisingly soft. And foul smelling. Oh, dear Gaia, I had landed in _trash_.

Today was _really _not my day.

I moved to get myself out of the sea of black bags, but I stopped when a sound echoed down the small alleyway.

"Where'd she go?"

I sank back into the bags, my nostrils burning at the reek of bananas, rotted food and other things too disgusting to mention.

"Damn – she's – fast."

"She's gone, from what I can see."

One of them was wheezing. I tried to stay as still as I could. _Good thing I __**was**__ fast...ach, my legs... _My muscles **ached** with the need to move. I wanted to take a deep breath, but I forced myself to keep my breathing low and as silent as possible. I just prayed that they couldn't see me.

"That's it." This was red-head's voice. He had a characteristic accent, and he wasn't out of breath. "You're calling him."

"No! I refuse – to call...that blockhead...for help!" And that was scary-eye. I felt proud that he was feeling as out of breath as I was.

"You'll do what I say! He's got connections." Red-head's voice sounded sharper than I had ever heard it, and I tried not to start from where I was lying. "I am your senior in _this _particular gig. You will not screw this up, you hear? What we're dealing with doesn't involve only the big-wigs. This isn't up for trial!"

There was no humor in his tone.

Another wheeze.

"Fine."

"Good."

For the next few moments, I thought I was going to explode. The footsteps faded, faded, until I could hear nothing resounding in the grimy alley. Was it really safe to emerge? I didn't have the stamina nor the appetite for another chase. When I could take no more of the odor of garbage, I threw my weight forward, landing on my knees. I took a rasping breath, trying to clear my head of the foulness and straighten it from the thrill of running.

It was getting darker and darker. My chances of getting home were about one in a million. My legs felt tired and useless, limp from the sudden exercise they had received. I gathered enough strength to lean myself against the wall, well away from the garbage.

A small rustle alerted me to the fact that I was not alone in the alley.

_Rats_, I thought dryly, watching a rodent scurry from the trash bags to a hole in the wall opposite to me. A cat soon dodged after it, sticking its dirty paw into the hole and mewing disappointedly. _No pun intended. _

Astonishingly, I couldn't have been more indifferent about the fact that there were rats and cats in the alley. All I could think about was the lids of my eyes drooping, slowly, surely, and the fatigue that had seeped into my muscles.

Against all odds (and still stinking to high heaven like trash and who knows what), I actually fell asleep.

* * *

_**A/n:**_ Gosh, I had this chapter ready a _long_ time ago, but then ff net went a bit cuckoo with the login glitch, so I couldn't get it to you guys earlier. :( Sorry about that.


	11. Finding a Way to Cope: A Dying Art

_**WARNING:**_ Bit of foul language, due to Chloe's short fuse.

_**Chapter 11**_

My morning, you could say, was not pleasant. My awakening was anything but peaceful. How did I wake up? Well, I'm pretty sure if a bag of trash landed on your head, you'd wake up too—and pretty fast.

"Damn street tramps." Cue window slamming.

Apparently, the building I was sleeping against was an _apartment_ building. Joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. And I had just been conked over the head with some random (street-kid-hating) person's trash. A perfect way to start the day, don't you think?

Groaning, I shifted from my position, irritably flinging off the semi-empty trash bag. I was stiff in places that I didn't know it was _possible _to be stiff (not in that way, perverts). My shoulder felt outstandingly well, and greeted me with a nice, painful crack. I tried rotating the limb in its socket, but it only caused me more trouble than it was worth. I decided that when, and _if_, I got home, I'd tie it up in a sling or something.

Muscles and mind protesting, I lifted myself up.

I stretched my legs, feeling the tendons pull uncomfortably. "Ooh, that's just nasty," I murmured, trying to shake out the tension in my feet. Note to self: never get entangled with things that you don't know about, and don't make scary people angry. It doesn't have a favorable reaction.

My eyes wandered around the alley, trying to make sense of where I was. The sun was brightly slamming rays into the streets beyond the alley's shadowed protection, so I guessed it was only about eight or nine in the morning.

No, there were no birds chirping. I was in the heart of the city. As you can guess, there aren't many plants. Besides, if there _were_ birds chirping, I would have found some way to shoot them. I was cranky enough to scar Bernie for life, and that's saying something about the level of crankiness I currently was experiencing.

My head hurt, to put it in a nutshell. I was hungry and thirsty as heck. Oh, and I hadn't an inkling of where I could possibly be. Yes, it was now affirmative that this was a beautiful beginning to a beautiful day.

There was an ache inside of me—I missed Dante. The black-furred disaster was always with me, and it felt strange not to have him around. Was he alright? I found myself wondering about things that were impossible to know. Determination flooded me.

I would just have to get back, wouldn't I?

* * *

Easier said than done. I had only managed in getting myself even more exhausted (if that was possible). I had left my wallet at home—smart move, Chloe—so I had no way of getting myself some freaking water or food! Way to go, girl. You've got yourself stuck in some remote place of Edge with no money and a very sore shoulder.

I sighed, squinting at the shop sign in front of me.

"'Edge Travel Service.' Well, what d'you know? We have a travel service, too." I pushed the door open.

The secretary behind the desk recoiled at my appearance (and smell, also, probably). Unfortunately for her, she wasn't getting rid of me all that fast.

"Excuse me...I'm lost. Might you have a map of the city?"

She stared at me as if a multitude of fiends had just jumped out of my head. "Uh...yes. I-I th-think I d-do. Sh-shall I fetch it?"

What was with the stuttering? Was I really _that_ hideous? "If you could, please, it would be of a great help."

She scurried away and disappeared behind stacks and stacks of papers, taking cover behind a few library shelves. She scuffled about for a minute or so, but then she came back with a folded up map in her grasp. She held it out to me and I took it. I opened it up.

_Map of Edge_, I read. How exquisitely original. "Thanks, this will do. I don't have any money..."

"I-it doesn't c-cost anything."

I smiled at that, pleased. She seemed to realize I wasn't a man eating monster, and relaxed just a teensy bit. "You really helped me. Thanks again!" I turned on my heel (which squeaked tremendously, by the way), and walked out of the store.

I unfolded the map and took a look at it.

Dad used to say I was useless with maps of any type, shape or form. Time to prove him wrong! ...Sort of. I still couldn't make much sense of the drawing, even though it was supposed to be 'civilian friendly' and 'easier to comprehend than the 2.0 version.'

I wished myself good luck because of two reasons. Firstly, I had no one else to offer it to me. Secondly, I was really, _really _going to need it.

* * *

"That old man couldn't tell left from right!"

"Calm down, Yuffie. He was just a little frustrated, that's all."

"Frustrated? More like berserk! If there was no more glass in the world, and that the last panes were in his greenhouse-mabob, and that's when you'd say, 'Oh, poor guy,' but he was just—"

"I know. He wasn't that kind. But it happened ages ago, so forget about it." Tifa had been listening to sentences akin to the ones Yuffie had just spoken ever since last night. The elderly keeper of the greenhouse had not been the most courteous man on the Planet, and it had struck a very bad nerve with the female ninja.

"Rudest person I'd ever met!" huffed the kunoichi, shaking her head. "Honestly..." There was silence for a while until Yuffie turned to her friend. "Do you really think this is actually worth it? I mean, we've been following the dog for hours, even though we went back."

It was true—they had retired to Seventh Heaven, dragging the dog with them. He had persistently refused to be taken back, but was eventually returned anyway. The mad chase had quickly resumed in the morning when they had awoken to barks and howls at the door. They had called Chloe's mother (number the courtesy of the ever-helpful Mrs. Tussen) to assure her that nothing was wrong with her daughter's dog, even though its owner was practically missing. When Tifa had asked if Chloe was there, the aforementioned girl's mother had bluntly replied that her daughter was old enough to take care of herself and did not need her assistance.

Somehow, Tifa had pictured Chloe's mother to be more flustered at her daughter's short disappearance.

"D'you suppose Chloe's at home?"

Tifa sighed and shook her head. "I don't think so." She really didn't know, in fact—when she passed by Mrs. Tussen's in the morning, the grocery shopkeeper had said that Chloe hadn't visited since yesterday, even though she said she would be there in the morning to help with the new shipping of apples newly in from Benora.

They rounded the bend when Dante suddenly stuck his nose to the ground again, acting as if he was possessed. He shot off, a blur of black amongst the unnatural sunniness of the day.

"Hey, wait up!"

Yuffie and Tifa hurried after him as the dog trotted away, not hesitating to leave them behind. They were passing by a particularly dank area of Edge, which was mostly dominated by looming apartment buildings and prison-like alleys. Most of the city's warehouses and factories were here.

They came around to another corner and as soon as they turned it, they heard a very loud and very annoyed voice. A lanky young woman was standing in the middle of a small, abandoned road, clutching something papery in her hands.

"God_damn _it! I'm going to rip you into such little pieces that no one will ever find your remains! You hear, you inanimate object?! You've done _nothing_ whatsoever to help me get my ass back home! I've done it! I've finally lost my last marble—I've finally gone nuts! I'm talking to a map. I'm talking to a—ACK!"

A bark sharply cut off the rambling of the voice; Tifa observed Dante's black shape as it rocketed upwards shortly and landed on the person wearing an obtrusive brown jacket lined make-believe, cottony fur, bringing said person down with his sheer weight.

"Ah, is that her?"

Tifa nodded excitedly, questions swimming in her head. "Chloe! Chloe, over here!"

* * *

My spiteful tirade had been interrupted when a very vast and very _fast_ silhouette of black had simply barreled into me, taking me into the ground and reminding me that my shoulder was not, despite what I believed, all well just yet.

"_Yeow!_"

I didn't have to look twice to know what had hammered me down. I struggled underneath Dante's weight and finally managed to get him off in time to hear a very, very welcome voice reach my ears.

"Chloe! Chloe, over here!"

I wanted to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn't seeing an apparition. It was Tifa—and Yuffie! Then again, rubbing my eyes wouldn't be such a good idea, because God knows what my hands have been dragged across in the past hours.

"Oh, Lord be praised," I sighed in exhaustion, propping myself up on my knees. My poor jeans had seen more action than they had in their entire life. I was going to make sure they received extra special treatment when I went home. I wouldn't want them wearing out, now would I?

"Where've you been?" Yuffie asked, zipping over to me before I could even blink. "We've been following Dante ever since yesterday, looking for you."

"Aw, geez, you actually did that?" Great, now I was embarrassed. The heat rose to my face, probably making me look like a glowing beet. "How did you even..."

"He went ballistic when we tried to take him home last night," Yuffie said, grinning widely at the dog that was panting at my side.

I whacked him lightly on the head before grabbing a bunch of his fur and ruffling it roughly. I gave him a huge kiss on the snout and hugged him tightly. His response was to lick me on the face—only, he didn't continue doing so. Instead, he wrinkled his nose in aversion and pulled away, spitting out a glob of saliva instantly after licking me with a comical _ptoo! _sound.

"I know I'm not that savory at the moment," I growled at him, "but you make me feel _so _ much better about it."

"Yes...you don't look all that well," Tifa said, smiling nervously.

"I look like shit, don't I?"

"...You can put it that way, I guess."

"Oh, well, you can't have it all." I glanced sideways at the discarded map at my left. I stood up, dusting off my jeans. "Um...I'm trusting you guys know the way home?"

"Most certainly."

"Good, because I can't navigate worth half a gil."

* * *

By the time I had arrived on the porch of my house, I had given Tifa and Yuffie enough 'thank yous' to last them 'an entire lifetime and more! Stop saying thank you, or our ears will fall off!' Word for word. I _was_ grateful. I had promised them that I would explain everything once I patched myself up and reverted to my not _so_ scary appearance, which was, for me, something normal.

I really did plan on telling them the truth. Every last bit of it. I felt like I could trust them, for some benign, unknown reason. This afternoon, I'd march over to Seventh Heaven and narrate an event I probably wouldn't admit to my own mother. It's sort of weird how a human mind works, isn't it? I wasn't willing to tell a person who had taken care of me for twenty-five years (going on twenty-six) about something that she should know about, but I was willing to say everything to two people I had met barely met a day and a half ago.

Despite my complicated thoughts (I should stop overthinking. My brain will overload), one small wedge of my consciousness managed to squeeze in the idea of a hot shower and an equally warm meal, which made my confused mind fuzz over with pleasure.

Though, of course, there was something that I had to deal with before engaging in any self-indulgence that involved chocolate from Costa del Sol.

The kitchen was not wholly deserted when I entered; what was strange was that I didn't know where mom was. I had expected her to be at the doorway, ready to garrote me with a newly washed button down shirt for vanishing without a trace. Instead, when I entered, she was nowhere in sight. Not even in the _kitchen_, her realm of doom.

But something of the same evil capacity was sitting at the kitchen table, lighting a cigarette and staring up at me through a pair of baby-blue eyes which she definitely did _not_ deserve.

"It's the return of the Sprout," Aunt Lily cried through her cancer-stick muffled mouth.

"It's the return of your murderer," I countered, walking straight up to the kitchen table and slamming my fists onto the wooden surface, producing a satisfying crash...which didn't even make her flinch. It made Dante whimper, and it made my temper simmer dangerously.

I held her stare evenly before continuing to spill my rage and frustration at being kept in the dark (because I was; I don't know about what, but there was something she was keeping from me), into one sentence.

"Who the _fuck_ did you work for?"

"Your mother's out back doing the laundry." She took a leisurely drag and let loose a cloud of smoke into my face. "A more politically correct term would be 'worked with.'"

Anybody willing to hand me a metal bar would be _really_ welcome right now.

* * *

_**A/n:**_ Well...I managed to get it up. Hurrah! I want to thank **R. R e e v e s** for her constant prodding—I wouldn't have started this chapter otherwise. Another very important canon character to appear very soon! :) (He's actually my favorite character. :D)


	12. Weeding Words

_**Chapter 12**_

Well...I told them. Yay. Hurrah. Congratulations to me. Yes, as you can probably understand, I told Tifa and Yuffie what had happened. We all sat down at the bar in Seventh Heaven (Dante included), and talked over a nice round of chocolate milkshakes. I may add here that Tifa has the most kickass cooking on the face of the Planet. It even competes with mom's. No joke.

So...yes. I told them all about it—they were silent throughout. They asked no questions, and they didn't interrupt at all, although I did notice a bit of a twitch at the name of the red head. Had they known him? It wasn't really my place to pry, but considering I was hauled into an unknown place, hogtied and trussed up like newly-hunted game, I think I have a small right to the knowledge. Unfortunately, that knowledge seemed out of my reach, because the subject was always changed when we brushed upon it.

Yuffie, surprisingly, is sometimes not a very easy person to read, but it wouldn't take a genius to register the look of anger on her face after we had finished our talk. On my way out, I could've sworn I heard something like 'tomato head' being murmured by her.

Nothing earth-shattering had happened since then.

Thus, I was happy as a lark.

The weeks rolled by, turning into months. I turned twenty-six. Oh, the joys of growing old. I had my mother wake me up by poking me with a clothes' pin and giving me a slice of cake. I suffered an entire day of jabs from Aunt Lily and a series of annoyances from Bernie. The girls at the bar and I came just a little more closer—it was easy to talk to them and heartening to see that such kind people existed. Cloud seemed like a nice guy, even though he was constantly on delivery. People seemed to have become infected with autumn delivery spree, and so the blond didn't have much rest.

I met some more of Yuffie and Tifa's friends: there was a tall pilot with a fouler mouth than mine that would curse a blue streak into the air if it weren't for his wife—she was a kind person, with a nice smile. There was Cait Sith; I had never seen something like him before, and it had come as a surprise that a robotic cat could talk intelligently. He had the habit of sticking around Red XIII (also known as Nanaki), a Cosmo Lion. Red XIII made for interesting conversation. He was spunky and didn't back down when someone faced him with an argument, and I liked that.

A person named Barret had also dropped in—apparently the adoptive father of little Marlene. I had been a little startled when I first met him, but I soon discovered that he had a big heart and his love for Marlene was large. He had left a few weeks earlier: something about traveling the Planet and resources. There was more to the cast of people that drifted in and out of Seventh Heaven, and I, for one, was very glad to be in their midst. They were so different and yet such good friends; it was something to be admired and envied at the same time.

Unavoidably, I had also met Marlene and Denzel, who were usually present whilst I was doing my work at Seventh Heaven. Boy, did I like those young ones. Tifa was dead on about Marlene's intelligence, and I appreciated that I could talk to the kid without sugarcoating anything. Denzel had looked a little apprehensive towards me at first, but he and I eventually warmed up to each other.

That was all good and dandy.

_However_, the two last people on my _family _(yes, I considered Bernie family) list were becoming unbearable to deal with, even though the latter was around so little I found myself forgetting his damn face. After our last explosive encounter (actually, I should say, _my_ explosion) with Aunt Lily, she had turned into the most insufferable shrew within an a thousand mile radius. I hadn't heard my name from her mouth in over a month. She permanently called me 'Sprout.' Damn woman. Mom became distant; we didn't talk too much, but we didn't argue, either. Life at the house was turning into a physical coexistence, and the fact did not make me too comfortable.

Mrs. Tussen was just as jolly as ever. She had excitedly announced to me that this year's autumn harvest was a feast, and that I should definitely try out some of the apples if I could. I didn't see much of Mr. Tussen, but I never do, anyways, so there wasn't much of a difference.

Life continued, as always. My job (my _job_! It makes me feel so special to say I have one now...) went well, too. I familiarized myself with the recurring customers at Seventh Heaven and now could proudly point you in the correct direction if you asked for a carbonated drink. After a nasty mix up which involved mistaking vodka for water, I had been treading carefully in relation to sorting the bottles.

It wasn't that hard of a job. Most of the time, it was house chores, which I would do at home anyway because Aunt Lily is equivalent to a slave driver to the power of ten and mom is head dictator. To say the least, it was much more fun, quiet and relaxing to do these chores at Seventh Heaven instead of the badlands I called home.

Mostly, I cleaned the dishes, sorted the bottles, wiped down the wet glasses. Other times, I came early and flew around the premises armed with my deadly window-cleaner and a towel, ready to exterminate all window dirt because Tifa was too busy to do so. Yuffie would pop in an out like a deranged ball, and, at times, I managed to rope her into helping me.

There were, of course, a few exceptions—sometimes, Tifa had to run an urgent errand and I was left alone for a small amount of time in the bar, in charge in Tifa's stead. I had been a waitress before, and I knew how these things worked. It wasn't much to handle...on the days that weren't busy. Luckily for me and my lazy hide, this was one of these days. You could count the customers on one hand. And today was the easiest count of them all because there were—wait for it!— none.

And, as you know, an semi-empty room is the best kind to talk to. Dante was curled up to the side of the bar underneath a stool, resembling something ominous and very black. I could hear his even breathing all the way from where I was standing. He scratched and scuffled about once in a while, running in his dreams. He was probably dreaming about some amazingly fit and beautiful female dog. Dirty little Dante's mind never changed, even though he had been fixed in his seventh month.

Though, by some godsend miracle, I conserved my dignity, and instead of talking, I hummed a tune that had gotten stuck in my head because of Aunt Lily's insistent radio listening. Ooh, I certainly had a bone to pick with that woman. She was _really_ getting on my nerves, and one of these days, it would have to _STOP. _One hundred percent. That meant no half-jobs. No insults. No jabs. No scarily private conversations.

Yes.

...Who am I kidding?

It was a slightly warm day outside—a beautiful April was coming our way. But the city didn't take it too well; it was getting hot already. The air conditioning had and I tried turning it on to test it in advance for the 'frying pan' months, and it just croaked on us.

Tifa had tried calling whoever the person was that fixed things like air conditioners. Frankly, he was a complete and total bitch. I had gotten fairly mad at him, and had had a good mind to grab the phone from Tifa and speak to him in the way that reportedly made mom's hairs stand on end. I didn't have the chance to, sadly.

Tifa had decided to kill two birds with one stone. She was going to find this dude of the air conditioners and do the grocery shopping shortly after that so she wouldn't have to run back and forth from Seventh Heaven to the different supply stores. Marlene and Denzel were at school. Yuffie, as always, was out there somewhere, probably nabbing materia from an unsuspecting person. Cloud was doing deliveries.

As a result, I was currently alone with Dante.

The tune was still playing annoyingly in my head. I had discarded my jacket and gloves in wake of the warmth seeping through the windows, leaving me comfortable in my trusty white wife-beater.

My bar-surface scrubbing stopped (melted sugar accident, you see) when I heard the door creak open. I lifted my head up, feeling my braid slide off of my shoulder. I had to somehow immobilize the irritating thing...

Something quite large and...billowy was standing in the doorway, halfway inside and halfway out. I squinted, trying to discern a shape that could possibly give me a clue as to what this was. The sunlight from outside blocked out the details of whatever was facing me. There was silence for a while—which, of course, _**I**_, the idiot supreme, had to interrupt.

"Excuse me? May I help you?"

There was a slight clink, like metal was shifting. "...Is Tifa here?" Deep voice, definitely male.

"Not at the moment, sorry. She's running some errands." Well, it _was_ true. "Would you like to leave a message for her? She'll be back soon."

A slight hesitation. "...Tell her that Vincent came by."

A nod from the ultimate dope. "Will do."

The person in the doorway disappeared without another word (geez, what a gentleman), but not before the sun caught on a particularly interesting implement on his left hand. _Gold._ No, not for greedy reasons, people—I doubt it was real gold, anyway. I had been correct, some months ago. There _had_ been someone watching. There was a faint little voice on the horizon of my hazy mind that was telling me that Mr. Swishy-Red-Cloak wasn't the most sociable of people. Boy, boy, I am really perceptive sometimes, aren't I?

Dante's head lolled to the side. His eyes were open; he was awake. What, and he didn't announce his entrance with a bark and a leap? This heat had done more than just screw up my mind. It had given Dante a natural tranquilizer. Hm. Maybe there were advantages to this. I continued to scrape away the stubborn sugar stain from the counter. The cloth was dry. I turned to the sink and wet the cloth again, and then reached for the liquid soap above in the shelf.

I took the bottle. Oh, that I did.

The pain came after.

It shot up my shoulder, shocked my neck and delved into the side of my head in a sharp drill of agony, making me let out something that embarrassingly sounded like one of Dante's frightened yelps. The liquid soap clattered to the counter, balancing itself out because of its bottom-centered weight. I sat on the balls of my heels, rocking back as I obstinately bit down my tears. I doggedly lifted my left hand and held my damaged shoulder in place, waiting for the pain to ebb. My good mood was shattered.

Suddenly, Dante's face was in front of me, black eyes boring into mine, face drawn into a canine's version of a concerned frown. His brow was scrunched. He leaned forward and pressed his head onto mine, giving my forehead a comforting lick.

Wow. Look at me. I'm twenty-six. I've got a part-time job with people that I've grown to like more than my own family in the present. I've graduated from college with a Traveler's Degree, but I'm doing nothing with it. I want to see the world, but I'm stuck in Edge. I've never had a steady job or a steady boyfriend, but I'm doing nothing to improve the situation. I want to be boring, but everything seems to be _against this_.

Dante's breath on my cheeks was warm and humid.

I love him so much.

Yes, it's certainly pathetic being Chloe Browne.

* * *

Tifa's face was drawn into a thoughtful frown. She mechanically placed a glass into the row of now-clean glasses, watched carefully by a Yuffie with raised eyebrows. The windows to the bar were shuttered, and the sign outside was turned to 'closed.' It had been a pleasant surprise when Chloe had told Tifa that Vincent had stopped by, and even better when the man himself dropped by for a visit and was coerced by his long-time friends into spending the night at Seventh Heaven. Chloe, however, had not been so good this afternoon. Her face had been pale. She had looked sick. Quite frankly, in the short time that she had been working at Seventh Heaven, Tifa had learned more about her and her family.

It was surprising enough that she came from Nibelheim. The name alone brought back many memories, including one of a tattered photograph.

"You've got that look on your face again, Tiff."

"Mm?"

"You're thinking."

"Mm."

"About?"

"This afternoon." Tifa placed another glass in row.

"Really? What happened this afternoon? I mean, besides _the_ loner of all loners coming to visit us."

"Chloe didn't seem to be well."

"Yeah, noticed that too. She's usually spewing sarcasm faster than you can say 'materia.'" Yuffie snapped her fingers on the last word, giving it emphasis.

"I'm sort of worried about her."

"Nah, don't be. She's gonna be alright."

"It's that shoulder of hers, I'm sure of it. She shouldn't work if it's bothering her."

Yuffie shrugged. "It's her choice, ultimately. Maybe she wants to work _because_ of it."

"You're philosophical this evening, Yuffie. Why?"

"Maybe Vinny's affected me."

"Mm."

There was a slight hiccup. And then: "Tifa, Tifa, Tifa, Tifa! Hey, Teef!"

"What?"

"Is that hot chocolate still available?"

"...It's thirty degrees outside, Yuffie."

"So?"

"I spoke too soon."

"Hey!"

* * *

When I returned home, I was groggy with pain. My shoulder still hurt like the dickens, and if I could swallow a whole bottle of painkillers, I seriously would. Unfortunately, I also don't want to die, so I didn't really swallow the entire bottle. Believe me, two seemed insufficient to relieve me of my suffering. My shoulder hadn't acted up so bad since a while ago—I should have expected it. It always seems to get better, and then it flares up again.

Hours passed. Night fell, mom and Aunt Lily went to bed after a foreign ritual that could be called dinner took place. And so, I sat, defeated, in bed, in my pajamas, staring up dejectedly at the ceiling that seemed to have gotten so much closer to me that I felt like suffocating then and there. I tossed. I turned. I lay on my side, repeatedly batting my braid away. I considered standing on my head. I got up. I paced the room. Dante watched me with a sort of 'Lord, there she goes again' expression. His head was on his paws; his eyes followed me diligently as I persisted in wearing a hole in the floor.

Finally, I decided that the four walls were simply _too damn close_, and that I had to get out. I didn't even bother changing. I just slipped my knee-high boots on, not even considering taking my jacket. Dante got up on his feet (I could just see what was going on in his head: 'Here we go again...') and let me lead the way. I sidestepped smartly to avoid the creaking floorboard and made my way downstairs, glancing at Dante every now and then to make sure he was walking in the right direction. I opened and unlocked the door, taking Dante's leash from the hooks and shut the contraption gently behind us, making sure to lock it. I would be back by morning, and mom wouldn't have to find out I had virtually locked her inside.

I took to the streets, walking, walking, because my feet seemed to have energy and because my mind wouldn't take a breather. My thoughts were busy and crowded. It was _not_ that time of month. This was not the usual rushy feeling. This was more like a feeling of intense restlessness, the kind that made you desperate enough to scream for absolutely no reason.

No, don't worry, I didn't holler.

I was close to doing so, though.

We were walking past Mrs. Tussen's grocery store when something caught my attention and warned me to stay back. Dante obediently halted in his tracks, watching the figure with as more interest than me, his ears standing up sharply, on alert. I did not step into the range of visibility that the above street light gave. Something inside me was quivering in terror, screaming at me to turn tail and run. I was smart enough to gather my wits and guide Dante behind a stack of conveniently placed cargo crates that were situated in front of Mrs. Tussen's store. _Cycorp Oranges, _I read. Apparently this cargo hadn't been taken in. I was grateful for it; the crates effectively hid us from whoever's view it was that was standing on the other side of that light.

There were footsteps.

I can hear you thinking, "Congratulations, Chloe! There were _footsteps_!" Yes, they were footsteps, but they were hurried and rushed, as if the person was ready to break into a run. Somebody walked past the crates and came to a stop within the light. I lowered myself and clamped a hand over Dante's muzzle, forbidding him to make the slightest sound.

Why was I _hiding_? Even I didn't know.

I peered through a crack in the crates. The person's torso was obscured from my view. I could see a pair of cargo pants and worn sneakers. The hem of a tattered white tee was so near that I could reach out and catch it in my hands.

"Took you long enough."

"Are you _crazy_, you idiot?! What are you _doing_ here?"

The second person spoke in a whisper-hiss of anger, but the voice was recognizable. The sound made my heart come up to my throat. The world seemed to whoosh past my ears.

"I have business to do with you."

"Do I look like I care? We don't talk here."

"We talk here or not at all. I don't want to stare at your face any more than what is necessary."

"The feeling's mutual, _partner_."

The combination of the two voices in conversation was enough to make my universe take a fell swoop towards oblivion. How did they even _know_ each other? It wasn't possible—what I was thinking wasn't possible, was it? That would mean...that would mean a whole lot of lies. Lies that had been thrown at my face and served as a testament to my eternal, immortal and definite _blindness_.

"_I've got a good reason, okay?_"

"_I've got so much work..."_

"_Keep the insults for next time, Princess!_"

Did life really want to keep insisting on turning every single damn thing upside down? The Lifestream was seeming awfully tempting at the moment.

"You," said voice number one acerbically, "are going to watch Chloe Browne."

"I'm going to what?"

"You heard me. Watch her. It's an order from higher up. We need information about that specimen. They think there's something bigger involved."

"She's got nothing to do with this!"

"On the contrary, _Bernard_, she has everything to do with this. It really doesn't matter how you do it, but you are going to get close to her and find out what she has to offer. Seduce her. Befriend her. Make her _talk to you_."

There was silence from the other end.

"That aunt of hers is the key to everything. You ruin this, and I will _have your head_, Reno or no Reno. I will not allow you to throw away this opportunity."

Silence again.

"Tsch. Typical. You and those stupid feelings of yours. I'm leaving before I get infected with your stupidity."

Tyr marched off from where he was standing, the tiniest of strands of his gray hair catching and reflecting the light. My hand was still on Dante's muzzle. I tried very hard not to think about my sweaty palms and who the other person was. All I saw for a few, terrifying moments, was orange and gray and brown and black. When the surroundings had shifted back into focus, Bernie had already unlocked the door to the store, walked inside, locked the door behind him and shut off all the lights on the ground level.

The night air was humid. It made my clothes stick to my body and my hair to my face and cast heat on my icy skin that didn't reach inside and warm me all the way down.

I didn't care. My mind was somewhere else.

My body, though, was left there, behind the crates, crouching amidst shards of broken memories.

* * *

_**A/n:**_ Well. The first two thirds of this chapter were lying about ever since April like a piece of worthless—um—stuff. This chapter is dedicated wholly and utterly to **Janika**, who was the uncanny ability of inspiring you with her words.


	13. Monitor

_**Chapter 13**_

When morning came, I still felt like it was night. I had practically berated myself to the point where I was black-and-blue on the inside, asking myself why I cared so much. It wasn't as if I had been good friends with him. It _wasn't_. I was determined not to let that idea seep in my head. Why keep it a secret? Yes, I wasn't about to pull out a fanfare and make a band march because he worked at ShinRa, but I wouldn't murder him over it, either. Maybe it was because ShinRa was connected with Aunt Lily in my mind. Maybe that's why I couldn't suppress this asphyxiation that seemed to choke me from the inside.

Yeah, I know: melodrama at its peak. My thoughts were so melancholy and disgustingly not like me that I felt nauseous at times.

I tried convincing myself that he might have wanted to keep it from me simply because he wasn't comfortable with sharing stuff like that. Just when I could finally sink into the unknowing realm of ignorance, my brain jolted me with Tyr's words, playing them over and over again in my head like a tape that was stuck on a _damned loop_. I couldn't get that stupid, gray-haired, overgrown idiot's sentences out of my head!

I hadn't slept last night, of course.

My entire 'sleep time' was spent trying not to lie on my bad arm and ignoring the pain pulsing in my shoulder in_ freaking perfect_ sync with my headache. That was what three-fourths of my mind was occupied with. The other, lonely one-fourth was wreaking havoc on my imagination, causing me to fidget like a madwoman and think up scenarios I'd consider utterly bonkers in the light of day. I kept Dante up, too—and that says something, since Dante sleeps like a rock and has the awareness of an amoeba when he's asleep.

The morning played out in front of me like an old reel of film that kept getting jammed in the projector called my eyes. I sometimes—if you like putting it the less-offensive way—glitched. I poured too much coffee in my cup and didn't notice it even when it soaked my glove and gave my already scarred hands another burn to add to the collection. I somehow tuned out Aunt Lily's morning rant and managed to escape another increase in my blood pressure. I very nearly was run over on my way to work (the butterflies from saying I had a job still hadn't left).

I came close to shutting the door on Dante at Seventh Heaven because I hadn't realized he wasn't inside yet.

To put it in a few words: I was completely out of it.

Yuffie noticed this particular detail about me. It caused much eyebrow-raising, looking-at-from-different-angles, chin-rubbing and 'hmm_mm_'ing. I frankly couldn't care less. She could sit and take notes about me, for all I cared. Today, I was out of commission, and I doubted my repairs would be hasty; if they were to _be_ hasty, they wouldn't be at all correct or efficient.

I was sitting behind the counter, hands clasped in my lap. I didn't have much work today; I was just going to clean the windows because the smog from the city had fogged them up again, but I hadn't worked up enough energy to do that just yet. Yuffie was sitting opposite me, elbows on counter and leaning in observationally. The man that I had learned was named Vincent was sitting in the corner of the bar, chin propped up on a hand. His crimson gaze was drilling into the wall in front of him. Cloud, as usual, was out. I hoped the heat wouldn't be a problem to him. Tifa was in the kitchen, preparing lunch for the people at the bar.

"Chloeeeee."

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Perfectly."

"You're not wearing your gloves today."

I looked down, and discovered her to be right. Yikes. The pale burn scars on my palms would show now. After pondering it for half a second, I let it go. Shrugging mentally, I pushed the shallow idea out of my head and continued my oh-so-dreary train of thought down the railway of brooding. "It's too hot."

"You got a point there. I don't think I'll go materia hunting today. It's going to be absolutely boiling in the afternoon."

"...True."

There was a slight pause. But, as anyone who has ever had a conversation with Yuffie would know, pauses in her conversations did not generally last for long. "Why don't you ever let your hair down? I bet you'd look nice!"

Gaia, this girl hits the nail on the head with the first try. "It's a thing...I have..."

"That doesn't sound too convincing to me."

Oh, yes, Yuffie, I'm so totally going to spill my guts to you in the middle of my shift _and _in front of a person who can make staring at the wall look like an epic sport. Not to mention that if I did let something stupid slip, my employer would be able to hear it from where she was working.

"Yes, well, I'm not really in the mood to be convincing at the moment.."

"I still say we try it." And before I had any chance to react, Yuffie leaned forward just a little bit and yanked the scrunchie off the end of my tight braid with a swift movement. My hair (which had apparently retained its slippery tendencies despite being bound, curse it) started unraveling itself at the bottom of the braid. I stared up at the kunoichi with an expression that I would like to think was one of extreme dissatisfaction.

"Yuffie..."

"Wha-at? I think it looks great, and it hasn't even come loose!"

I didn't answer. My eyes were trained on the white scrunchie in her hand.

"Why do you keep it in a braid?" she asked again.

"Because I want my hair to be ridiculously frizzy," I said disagreeably, eyes narrowing.

"It doesn't seem to be frizzy..."

She quickly ran a finger through the braid and it dissolved wholly into a great big wave that I did not like to cope with. The feel of my hair on my shoulders and back gave me the creeps, and the fact that it was splayed all over those two areas did _not help at all_. I was faintly surprised at how much it had grown. I rarely brushed it—just bound it into a braid to keep myself from dealing with it, but it had continued to lengthen, not stunted.

"Would you look at that? It's not the slightest bit frizzy!" Yuffie said, pulling back and appraising the loose hair with her dark green eyes. "You've got a lot of hair!"

"_Thank you_, Yuffie. Can I have my scrunchie _back _now?" I moved forward and felt the hair slide away from my back and congregate on my left shoulder. It sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine. I nicked the scrunchie from her hand, holding it with a vice-like grip.

"Aww. I wanted you to keep it down a little more..."

"Hmph." I yanked my hair into place, trying very hard not to shudder at the thought of my hair being down. Too bothered to make a braid, I just pulled it up into a barbarously high ponytail to make sure that that didn't sit between my shoulder blades.

"...Chloe's unhappy." Yuffie sounded deflated.

"You don't say."

"Well, at least you're being sarcastic again."

"That guarantees my wellbeing how, exactly?"

"You know what? Never mind. It's not that important anyway! I've forgotten about it already!"

I gave her a suspicious look, not swayed. "Yeah, yeah...and chocobos fly. I'm going for those windows."

"You _do_ that, you blonde trooper, you!"

"Would you like to join?"

"Ah, well, sadly, I have a previous engagement that I must fulfill—so, until later, the Greatest Materia Hunter Yuffie is signing out! Peace!"

I smiled to myself as she shot away through the entrance. So much for no materia-hunting in the afternoon. I grabbed the cloth and the soap and started working away at the back windows, the ones most affected by that dastardly smog. Yuffie really had a way of making you feel better; all the people that frequented Seventh Heaven seemed to have that uncanny ability. It sort of just...fit together. Like a puzzle, I guess. My home wasn't just about the most favorable place to be right now.

I walked out from behind the counter to reach the window's far right side, and very nearly killed myself by tripping over Dante, who had spread-eagled himself across the floor with no second thought. I skidded dangerously on the heels of my shoes (is that shock I see? Yes, I was wearing shoes) and came to a stop with a nasty squeak, washcloth in the air. I glanced at the perpetrator, jaw set tightly. "Dante..."

He didn't evenhave the courtesy to _blink_.

"I'm going to leave you at the house with her, next time."

Dante had gotten up, moved to the side, sat down and fallen asleep again in five short seconds. Really, the threats with Aunt Lily in them worked wonders. I stepped through the now-unoccupied gap and continued to scrape at the windows, my mind drifting somewhere else entirely.

It was, I finally decided, easy to do your job in a room with someone who makes staring at the walls look like an epic sport. It definitely wasn't easy to talk, but it was a perfect working environment.

* * *

Returning to the house was like opening the gates of hell and saying: "Honey, I'm home!" and hope that some sort of gargoyle wouldn't jump out at you from a creepy corner and devour you headfirst. Actually, now that I mention it, that situation might have been preferable. Gargoyles usually don't smoke (or maybe they do?). Hell, I imagined, would be a sort of lively place—you know, flames, torture, evilness, bright colors. At least something was going _on_.

I felt like I had walked into tangible radio static.

Can't you tell how much I adore family life?

Crediting the silence with the absence of my beloved family, I walked into the kitchen, Dante trotting behind me. I exhaled huffily and then sat down on a chair, grabbing an apple from mom's decorative plate and crunching into it, angry at myself for not being hungry today. I'd just have to eat. Knowing me and my amazingly amazing energy levels, I'd still fizzle out even if I wasn't hungry. I was about halfway through the apple when I noticed something on the island counter of the kitchen.

It was a package.

The coloring was pretty much the same as the kitchen counter, and I told myself that's why I didn't see it in the first place. I stood and walked over to the offending package and looked down on it, brows connecting in confusion. Large, black letters scrawled across the top in what seemed to be a stamp. _PRISMA CO._, the letters said, serving only to further confuse me. I tossed my half eaten apple into the sink and carefully latched my fingers underneath the opening. Ignoring thoughts that this could be a cleverly concealed bomb (too much television, Chloe!), I opened the package and felt the wind get knocked out of my lungs.

Lying amidst a pile of storage styrofoam was a sleek gray laptop. The logo of the company (I guessed) was embossed into its top. To me, it looked like a silver rubik's cube than anything else; rectangular letters were pressed into the computer's cover beneath it, once again saying _PRISMA CO. _I wasn't that big on technology and the like, but I knew what type of a computer this was. Newspapers had been raving about this model for weeks on end, tiring us poor readers with their compliments and complicated reviews that basically no one understood. It was logical that the name had been printed into my mind. This was Prisma Co.'s brand-spanking-new TS-1X.

In other words, a computer that I wouldn't be able to afford even if I worked fifteen separate shifts at Seventh Heaven and sold everything that I owned—including Dante.

I was pretty sure that money-deprived Aunt Lily couldn't get this either. Mom couldn't handle a computer if her life depended on it. I doubt she even knew how new computers worked. So...that left us with the ultimate question: who in the hell would possibly buy this and send it here? It could have been a mistake; that was a very plausible explanation.

My mind didn't have much time to think up anymore solutions because the door creaked open and in stepped the Midgar Zolom of my family. Aunt Lily looked up at me, one of her hands clutching what was probably a newly bought packet of cigarettes. She smirked at me, drawing a cigarette out from the packet. "You're home early, Sprout?"

I didn't grace her with an answer. Her eyes trailed from mine, down my arm and onto my palm, which was resting on the package. Her face turned into a frown, and she stood on tiptoes to see what I had opened. "What's that?" Again, she wasn't honored with a reply from me. Instead, grunting in exasperation, she came over and yanked the cover down so she could see what was written on the top. I expected her to laugh and ask me where I had gotten this, or if I had stolen it. My economic situation amused Aunt Lily, even though she was included and would be thrown out too if we lost the house.

The spiteful comments never came.

Aunt Lily went so pale she could put the white of mom's bedsheets to shame. I could practically see the blood draining from her face. She grasped my wrist with frightening gentility, moving my hand away from the package, and then slammed the package's top down onto the computer. "Where did you get this?" Well, the question came, just not in the way I had thought it would.

"It was here when I got home," I mumbled, pulling away from her.

Aunt Lily searched my face; I knew she was trying to see if I was lying. When there was no response, the ends of her mouth drooped and she acquired a greenish tinge. She looked like she was going to be sick. Did she..._want_ me to be lying?

I didn't ponder the query because she picked up the computer and walked out the back door. Several seconds later, I heard the thud of the computer hitting the bottom of the trashcan out back. She reentered, and then glanced over her shoulder. She drew her lighter out from her pocket and grasped it tightly, tightly, until I thought her knuckles couldn't get any whiter. Aunt Lily lifted her eyes to mine, and spoke in a clipped tone.

"If you find anything else like that, throw it out."

She trudged away and soon disappeared up the stairs, leaving nothing but a bamboozled niece and an equally clueless dog in her wake. A door upstairs slammed with mighty force, and I guessed she had incarcerated herself in her room. I turned to Dante, who had tilted his head at me and was making a low whine to express his curiosity. I knelt down beside him and scratched him between the ears, face crumpling.

"Now, what do you suppose that was about...?"

* * *

_**A/n:**_ Hyuck-hyuck. :] Things take a downwards direction from here on in, so prepare yourself for a hell lot of stress on Chloe's part. The reviews were greatly appreciated! :)


	14. She's Got A Chip On Her Shoulder

_**Chapter 14**_

Light.

Too much of it, dammit.

I tried to block it out by burrowing into my bedsheets and pulling said bedsheets over my head. Yes, it was boiling outside and I was barely wearing anything (if a tank-top and things that once were shorts could constitute as clothes) because of it, but even if I did suffocate for pulling the sheets over my head, I was_ not_ going to get up and 'face the day like a trooper.' Acting like that sucked. It took too much smiling and too much convincing movements to actually make people think you were okay.

Wait.

Did I have people to convince? Aunt Lily? Not counted. Mom? Meh, not very important, as of now, though I should probably tread on careful ground. Bernie? Hah. Now _that _was a laugh. Even _**I**_ didn't know how I was going to react the next time I saw him. I could just as well throw one of mom's prized vases at his head and watch the aftermath, despite the little downside that the aftermath was mostly going to be aimed at me. Well, then, we'd just have to move onto more drastic things. The 'ignore move,' should be put into good use here.

Dad had done this to me before. Once, we had the most amazingly humongous row about mom's attitude toward him. I claimed she was being harsh, unfair and—yes, gasp!— had called my mother a gorgon in the heat of the moment. Mom was always a cattish person, and she sometimes overstepped her boundaries; I'll admit that what I said wasn't exactly nice, but I think she deserved it. Obviously, neither the recipient nor the one I had aimed the name at were too pleased at this label. I still remember the way dad set his glass down on the table, with his knuckles completely white, bones sticking out of his hands like twigs.

He hadn't given me a glare, though. He'd just looked at me with the most hopeless face ever. I think he knew that I was right about it. Even so, dad gave me the cold-shoulder for about three weeks straight. Never before had I been subject to such treatment, and me, being a hardheaded teen, positively deflated underneath his onslaught, and then caught fire again with that stupid temper of mine. We made up, eventually (this part never seemed to happen with mom, though...), and he told me never to say something like that about my mother again.

Dad—or, if you would prefer to call him Drilan (it's a shock, I know; my father actually has a name), stuck up for mom and took all the bad hits in an argument if it involved mom. He was one of the most selfless people _on_ this dang Planet, and it's one of the primary freaking reasons I can't understand _WHY_ he left when he did. We needed him—all of us. Mom, me, Dante, and even...eh, even Aunt Lily needed him, to some extent. The first time Aunt Lily and dad met, the incident was just a few inches away from being a whole disaster. They didn't exactly like each other, you could say.

But truly, saying that after witnessing one of their arguments couldn't really even compensate for the show that happened when Lily and dad quarreled. Well, it wasn't _really_ a quarrel, to be honest, but it sure involved a lot of voice raising and airborne objects which, over time, one learned to dodge in a most sleek manner. When you woke up in the morning to the sound of a hard, dry _crack_, you knew Aunt Lily had taken out mom's favorite painted-lace rolling pin and was chasing dad around the kitchen with it.

And if your predictions continued to ring true, soon you'd see dad running past the stairs and out into the yard to escape whatever rolling-pin-bearing horror stalked him. Then, not three steps behind him, would be Aunt Lily, ridiculously fair hair in a tussle and cornflower blue gaze enraged, rolling pin in her hand.

These images, oddly, were fond ones. They were the happy memories that I had of Nibelheim: of green, green grass, like the ones that you see in those horridly cliché fantasy or romance movies; fresh air and mountain breeze, friends and laughter; a clean house and the crisp sound of shoes clacking against the paved streets. There wasn't much of that now.

Something wet and warm pressed itself against my cheek, jolting me out of my homesick thoughts. I stared into the eager eyes of Dante and groaned.

"_Why_ are you on my bed?"

The only answer I got was an encouraging whine. Dante nicked the sheets between his teeth and pulled my covers away entirely, exposing me and my poor shriveled retinas to the army of light rays pouring through the window. I made an unhappy noise and put my pillow over my face. Dante crawled over me and lay down across my torso, effectively squeezing any remaining breath I had out of my lungs. My shoulder creaked in protest.

"_Dante_! Can't—breathe!"

He took the hint and rolled off, leaving me gasping. I was just about to turn on my other side and endeavor to fall asleep again when the door to my room swung open. I suppressed the urge to cry out in disdain. Couldn't I just have a moment of bloody peace? It isn't much, is it? I mean, things were just _fine_ for the past months. Why did activity have to pick up again?

"Chloe..."

"Yesh?" I was still under my pillow. My mother sighed. What possessed her to come in here and talk to me? She was silent as a grave yesterday. What was different now? I could just see her; she was probably standing in the doorway with that frown on her face and her sturdy little hands crossed over her chest, staring at the lump that was me in the bed.

"You have to get up."

I removed the pillow. "I am well aware of the fact. However, I've made a deal with my inner zen today. My spirit's going to work and my body's staying in bed, so there's really no point in trying to make me get up."

"You don't _have _work today."

"...I don't?"

"No, you canceled. For a doctor's appointment, remember? It's happening at ten thirty."

My eyes widened in realization. She was right. I had called Tifa yesterday to tell her that I'd probably be out because I was going to get my arm checked out by a doctor downtown.

"It's ten to ten right now, and you'll never be able to make it if you don't catch a taxi now."

I leaped out of bed, throwing a confused Dante over the side simultaneously. "_SHIT!_"

* * *

Needless to say, I don't think I've ever dressed that quickly in my entire life. I was out of the house, semi-brushed, dressed sloppily and half-sated by fifteen to ten. For once, Dante wasn't with me. The taste of cereal was still in my mouth, revoltingly, when I crammed myself into a taxi and spewed the address of the doctor I was seeing. The man I had an appointment with ran an orthopedic clinic and specialized in—who would have guessed?—_bones_. I personally didn't think the problem I had was bone-related, but Aunt Lily and mom seemed convinced that it was, actually, something to do with the bone in my upper arm. I don't think I'd hurt as much if there was something wrong with my bone, but I'm no doctor, so I might be wrong.

I paid the taxi driver the gil he needed (though I'm not so sure I'll continue to be in possession of this thing called money...) and got out, inspecting the surroundings. It wasn't a grand clinic, but it wasn't the slums, either. It was quite average, nothing to write home about, but it seemed clean—from the outside. I walked into the small courtyard and entered through the pneumatic doors, feeling like a kid when sickness drifted into my mind as I smelled antiseptic.

I approached a nurse behind a counter, hoping that I wouldn't freak her out as badly as that lady in the Travel Agency. I couldn't be _that _horrifying, could I...?

"Hello! What can I do for you, dearie?"

Blow me down! A nice person, for a change. "Morning. I have an appointment with a Dr. Rui. I called yesterday—my name's Chloe Browne."

"Alrighty. Just wait over there, hun, and you'll be inside in no time."

"Thanks." I trudged over to where she had indicated (a small leather sofa) and let myself drop into it, calling my shoulder a few names as it gave me its repertoire of morning pain pangs. Even the painkillers didn't do anything to this damn limb, now, and I just had to sit, grin and bear it. I absolutely despised it.

Within the next fifteen minutes, I was called over by the chubby nurse and ushered into Dr. Rui's office; at least, I think it was his office. She informed me that he'd be back soon and I only had to wait a bit until he returned. I was happy enough with sitting in the office and worrying my sorry brains out. The idea that something might be seriously wrong with me had somehow wormed itself into my head and was giving me nasty things to think about. Of course, me being me, I thought about them and only managed to creep myself out more.

It was no surprise that I nearly attacked Dr. Rui when he came through the door because of my fright. I stayed in my seat, surprisingly, and awaited the doctor's acknowledgement of my presence. Instead, he just shuffled around the room, straightening papers, fiddling with the pens in his pocket, adjusting his glasses. This went on for about a minute or so before I 'cleared' my throat conspicuously and the doctor's face jerked up, his expression startled.

"How did you get in here?"

"...The nurse showed me in?"

"Oh, I see, I see. You're a _patient_, aren't you?"

"Uh...yes?"

"Good, good! I haven't had one in a long time!" The doctor clapped his hands together in pleasure, and then he frowned. "Wait...I had two just a minute ago. That aside, what seems to be the problem with _you, _young lady?"

God, this guy made all his sentences sound like bad adverts. I tried hard not to give a sarcastic answer. "Well...my arm...hurts." Wow, Chloe, that was the most specific answer in the history of medical science.

"Yes, but what exactly is wrong with it?"

That's why I'm _here _ 'doctor!' "Er...I-I had an accident a few years ago, and since then, my arm hasn't been really working all that well."

"Uh-huh. Which arm?"

"Right."

"Top or bottom?"

"Top. The shoulder, mostly."

"Have you ever seen another doctor about this before?"

I felt my eyes squint in concentration. "I saw a doctor after the accident happened, but he only put a sling around it and told me it'd be alright after it set."

"You never had an X-ray before?"

I shook my head. "Never. Not for this, at least."

"Well, let's take a look at this famous arm and then we'll see if you need an X-ray."

He motioned me to sit on that examining table and told me to take off my jacket. I did so, and my arm was exposed. There was nothing wrong with it _appearance-wise_, but it still throbbed really badly, and too much movement aggravated it. He took my arm and twisted it in all directions possible for the human arm, much to my discontent and discomfort, and cheerily asked me now and then if it _hurt_. Oh, no, doc, it's just fine! That's why it creaks and cracks at every movement and dissolves my grip!

He sat back and looked at me for a moment, and then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't think there really is any problem except that you might have a severe case of shoulder bursitis." Of course, _that_ really isn't a problem at all! What was 'shoulder bursitis,' anyway?!

"...Could you please enlighten me?"

"Ah, of course, of course! You, in a few words, have overused your shoulder bursus. Something may have happened to injure your arm in the first place—" does being trapped under flaming debris count? "—but now all of the strain and tension has accumulated in your shoulder, and you've developed a type of tendonitis called shoulder bursitis." What's with all the 'itis'es? "This happens when the muscles in the shoulder—I'll spare you the anatomy—have no more room to move against themselves since they've thickened due to inflammation, and they become what us doctors called 'pinched.'"

My pain did _not _feel like a _pinch_.

"So, what I recommend to you from now on," Dr. Rui continued, oblivious to my scowl and every-darkening aura, "is a type of tendonitis treatment that'll have you up and going in no time. There is to be _no muscular activity_ in your shoulder for the next three weeks. I'll put it in a sling for you to help stop any further inflammation."

_Three weeks_?! That's not 'in no time!' That's more than a century where mom is concerned! Oh, Lord, _mom_! What was she going to do when she heard about this?

"I'm going to give you some anti-inflammatory pills, just so you can relieve yourself of some of the pain. When the three weeks are up, I'd like you to come back so we can check up on your arm and see how it's doing. If there isn't any development, you'll be taking another three weeks off."

Excuse me, I need to go faint now.

"You must be in a lot of pain. Just look at the color of your face!"

I don't doubt it.

"There's one more thing that I'd like to suggest."

_Another_ thing?

"I'd like to take an X-ray of your arm. I didn't like the feeling of this bump here." He reached forward and poked a spot on my right arm, just below my shoulder and smack dab on top of what I supposed was my triceps (as if I had any). Funny, I hadn't noticed it before, but that little spot was just a tiny bit raised than the rest of my arm. Shows you how much I pay attention to my physical appearance...

"Then again, it just might be part of the inflammation from the bursitis, but I just want to be sure."

Could I even _afford_ an X-ray?

Damn me, I was about to find out.

* * *

I did the X-ray, obviously. Mom nearly had a fit when I showed up in a sling. Aunt Lily laughed (heartless woman) and Dante was Dante. There wasn't much to do at home until Dr. Rui called back and completely scared the living daylights out of me with the way he was speaking.

"Ms. Browne?"

"This is she."

"You must come over! Your X-rays have just been handed in and—oh, no matter, you must—must, I say—see this! It's extraordinary!"

I didn't even have time to yell 'hey, what the hell are you talking about' before he hung up on me. Haven't people ever heard of preserving dignity and letting a lady have the last word? I guess not. So, like a damned good trooper, I pulled on another wife beater on top of my gym bra and was careful of my sling. I even remembered to take shoes when I walked out of the house. Yippee for me!

The drive to the clinic was long and drawn out. I was ready to start chewing on my sling when the taxi came to a sluggish halt.

Unluckily, other people did not share my laziness.

The minute I walked into Dr. Rui's office, I was nearly knocked down by the amount of happy-happy vibes the dude was sending out. I wasn't quite so sure that I should have come, but it was too late to hop into one of those boiling taxis and putter home.

"Please, please, take a seat!"

I did.

"Now..." He took a deep breath. "Are you sure you want to see this?"

What in the seven circles of hell was he babbling on about? "With all due respect, Dr. Rui, I'm going to see it either way. It's in my body, obviously, and I think I've got a bigger right than you to know what's going on."

His walrus mustache drooped. "I guess you have a point." And then his mood brightened again. "But, do take a look."

The lights in the room went off, and the boards on the left side of the room lit up. Dr. Rui took the X-rays and pinned them up on the boards, making them more visible and clear to us. There were two (and more in the folder he was holding), and they were both, predictably, of my arm.

I did not see what I wanted to see in the X-rays.

"Doctor."

He turned to me.

"What is _that_?" I pointed to a perfectly measured, dark square that seemed to be attached to the bone of my upper arm in the X-ray. The humerus, Dr. Rui had called it. I didn't recall having any sort of injury there; my shoulder was put out of place in the fire, but other than that, my arm had been okay. I'd never even broken it before.

"That, my sweet Ms. Browne, is a chip."

A moment of silence reigned.

"...A _**what**_?"

"A computer chip, to be exact. And I've never witnessed something like it." He pulled another X-ray from the folder and yanked one down from the board, placing the other X-ray in its stead. This one showed my arm from the front. I could see the tiny inequality where the square came above the bone and disrupted the even surface with the smallest of lines.

"It seems to be a dead chip, though, but I wouldn't know, since I'm not the one who implanted it," Dr. Rui rambled on. He seemed to forget I was standing next to him. "It's a work of medical art! The only chips I've ever seen were under the epidermis, and tiny! But this! This is large, and it could fit in some computer circuit. I would bet my diploma on it. And look here, Ms. Browne: it seems to be grafted—no, threaded—into the bone! What skill this must have taken!"

"Is there any way to remove it?"

The lights flicked back on again, and I was met with a flushed face. "Why would you—?" He cleared his throat, and composed himself. He settled his glasses on the bridge of his large nose. I was too aware of his eyes blinking owlishly at me from behind those same glasses.

"Ms. Browne, for its removal, you would need one of the best orthopedic surgeons on the Planet. I spent time studying the magnified X-rays myself, and I can safely tell you that the chip is bonded so closely to the bone that to take it away would mean meticulous and lengthy surgery in order to successfully and safely rid yourself of it."

"So, in other words, I can't get it out."

He gave me a wry smile. "The only way to 'get it out,' Ms. Browne," he said, and took off his glasses, pointing at my slung-up arm, "is to _cut_ it out."

* * *

_**A/n: **_Hum, hum, what could this mean for Chloe? I write and upload to you from a very, very slow dial-up connection in a rural place. :) I'm on vacation right now, so I'll be writing more (hopefully)!


	15. Something Wicked This Way Comes

_**Chapter 15**_

I decided not to tell anyone.

Stupid, I know. Then again, when have I been anything but?

My stay at the house was short lived. It seemed that after that weird scare with the computer, Aunt Lily was back to being her good ol' 'let's-suck-the-life-out-Chloe' self, so I just moved surreptitiously from the house to Seventh Heaven in the mornings—with Tifa's permission, of course. She had been most sweet about my reason for not working. She said that I could stay there if it meant feeling better.

Nowadays, going to Mrs. Tussen's was completely _OFF LIMITS, _with capital letters in blaring crimson. I didn't want to run into anyone that would cause my blood pressure to drop _or _rise, so I kept well away. I couldn't exactly camp out so I wouldn't stay at home, so I just guarded myself around Aunt Lily.

My mother seemed to have turned into a walking vegetable. Other than reminding me of things that I was supposed to do, she was in her own world. When I talked to her, she gave off the impression of wanting to finish as soon as I started speaking. I had no idea what could have possibly changed something in her. Mom and I were never the best of friends all the time, but we were never like _this_, either. Maybe living with Aunt Lily has really zapped our brains after all these years...

Anyway, I had plenty of time to mull over my misgivings and my arm during the mornings. Sometimes I sat at a table, other times I wandered behind the counter like a lost ghost. Proof of that was when I managed to scare Denzel and Marlene when they came back from school. When I decided that sitting around all day would make me go mental, I washed dishes one-handedly despite a tiny protest from Tifa. I wasn't using my bad arm (which was still most majestically resting in that horrid sling), so it technically wasn't having any 'muscle activity.'

On a brighter note, I finally managed to throw away a part of long ingrained phobias, and dispensed of wearing gloves. I now roamed the streets and stalked around my house with my hands bare, burn scars showing blatantly. At first, it was a bit awkward since I wasn't used to looking at the way my palms had become. I had hidden them soon after the fire, but I learned to live with it and eventually stopped caring about it. I could now stare a burn scar in the face without having some part of my mind die. Three cheers for me!

At the moment, I was helping Yuffie shop (a.k.a. actually doing the shopping myself). There was a particularly nice, new supermarket that had opened up just a few streets away from Seventh Heaven, and the organic foods isle had gained Tifa as an instant fan. So, here we were, looking for some sort of beef to satisfy the hungered hordes at the end of the day. Yuffie was carrying a bright red basket with the shopping inside and I was skimming the meat isle with my eyes.

There were plenty of stops, considering that I was doing the shopping with Yuffie, but it was fun spending time with her. After a while, you got used to the talk and learned to enjoy her company. Yuffie seemed playful on the outside, but there was definitely something more serious lurking beneath the surface. Things were going just _fine_ until we walked out of the supermarket (I had gotten the beef, by the way).

That's when I spotted _him_. He was walking, chipper as ever, along the road, hands in pockets, a plastic bag looped around one of his wrists. He was carrying _oranges_, the cretin—oranges!

I tried to look down and away from Bernie, but unfortunately, Yuffie caught onto my uneasiness, then my stare and effectively voiced her question.

"Who's that?"

"Nobody."

"Someone you like?"

I felt a gag coming on. "Definitely not."

"Hm. Well, you know, girls say that about guys they _do_ like, but you don't sound like you're saying it to cover up some sort of secre—"

"Be quiet." It wasn't enough to make quiet reign, though.

"Why?"

"I don't want him to recognize me."

"Aah, I see."

No, you probably don't, though you might have a good picture of it anyway. I stared at the pavement, hoping that Yuffie would warn me if something was coming up ahead so I could avoid it. Luckily, no phone poles or cement columns magically appeared in my path, so the escape was pretty smooth until we stopped with the rest of the people on the road to wait for the green light to flick on. That damned green light!

It was making us wait too long, and Bernie was floating disconcertingly near inside the small crowd that had congregated on the sidewalk. My mind was telling me to turn tail and run like a chocobo gone mad. There wasn't much I could do, though. Short of jumping into a gutter or hiding behind one of the people in the crowd, I couldn't hide myself. Which means? There was no guarantee that Bernie wouldn't see me.

I was actually, consciously, purposely avoiding him.

What a beautiful life I lead.

I released a breath I didn't know I had been holding when Bernie skittered across the street and turned into another neighborhood, leaving my line of sight and relieving me of both his stupid grinning face _and _those oranges. My shoulders sagged when the tension left them, effectively causing me to draw my face into an tight-lipped expression (the pain!). Yuffie and I walked across the street and started making our way back to Seventh Heaven.

Yuffie had started talking about how materia prices had shot up lately when a person practically jumped out in front of us, causing both me and Yuffie to come to an abrupt stop. My mind frizzled at the sudden appearance, and I took an unconscious step back.

"My apologies, gals," the man said, grinning beneath his hat. He looked disgustingly unkempt, and I could only wonder about when the last time was that he had a bath. He was taller than me (which meant he towered over Yuffie), and was wearing a tattered overcoat that looked like it had seen much better days. His legs were long, thin, like bird's. The man was built like a mangy bird, I decided. Neck-up, he looked like a rooster in physique, what with the pointy features and the jutting Adam's apple. I guessed mid-forties for this particularly excellent specimen of Creepus Personus.

I felt my face souring. "What do you want?" Whoop, that came out a little harsher than intended.

His grin, however, didn't falter, and that weirded me out. Just a teensy-weensy bit. He leaned forward. I could see the stubble on his chin and smell the faded aftershave. Yuffie and I tensed. "Are you, by any chance, related to Lily Hayes, little lady?"

I honestly have _no idea_ what kind of light shone on me at that moment and told me to lie. I scowled angrily, and hopefully convincingly. "I'd hate to be related to her." Hoo, boy, how true. I wanted to put him off, but not provoke him. "I'm sorry, _sir_, didn't catch your name."

"Forgive my impoliteness," he said jokingly, moving backwards and giving us room to breathe. "Robert Prescott, but you can just call me Robbie."

This time, Yuffie spoke up. "Thanks, but no thanks. We should be going."

I concur, friend, I concur! "I'm sorry we couldn't help you." Yeah, sure. I'm _so_ sorry.

We moved past him and got about three paces away from Mr. Stinker, but I was pulled back by my good elbow. The waning tolerance I had for people holding me (which was lately decreasing steadily) snapped at that moment and I pulled my arm from his grasp, my voice sounding dangerous even to my ears. "Don't _touch_ me!" I felt my braid slap my cheek as my head swiveled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Yuffie reaching for the kunai in her waist-pouch. She hadn't taken one out yet, but her hand was hovering just over the flap of leather, waiting for another wrong move on the part of Rob-bay.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Whoa there, firecracker. You sure are feisty..."

But the fuse to my temper had already been lit and it was way too close to the explosive barrel of anger for my liking. I decided to let some steam loose. I drew my left hand close to my body and growled at him, "Listen here, creep! I don't know who you are and what you're after, and I don't _want _to know! Following people is called stalking and it's punishable by imprisonment!"

He freaking laughed. As in 'ha-ha' laughed, not 'mwa-ha-ha' laughed. My eyes grew wide. "Even if you try, you can't get Robbie behind bars."

What, now he's referring to himself in third person? _Why_ must I end up with all the nutcases flung in my path? Is there something that screams 'come and disrupt my peace' on my face? My fists clenched.

"We'll definitely be talking more in the future." And with that, he turned and waved, and then walked off. Just. Like. That. He walked away. After he did what he did, he turned and walked away. _Walked away_.

"Uh, Chloe?" Yuffie said tentatively when we couldn't see him anymore.

"Mm?" Although the sound came out sounding more like a guttural 'grrhgh,' I think she understood that I wanted her to continue.

"You're really...really red."

"I'm _seeing _red," I grit out, resisting the urge to find a lamp pole to punch. "Grraaggh..."

Yuffie shook her head, smiling slightly. Her hand had slid away from her kunai pouch. "Remind me to never get you angry." She suddenly grinned, widely, widely, in that way cues one of her infamous questions. "Speaking of anger—what have you been doing that I didn't know about?"

If I was seeing red before, now everything was burgundy. "I have no idea who the hell that was!"

"Hmm," Yuffie remarked skeptically, still smiling a little.

As we walked to Seventh Heaven, I knew what was the cause of all this trouble. Inexorably, it was going to be somehow linked to Aunt Lily. I had learned to expect it, after all these calamitous things happened to me. First it was that Tyr idiot and that Reno person, lots and lots of glass, garbage, _Bernie_, a computer, a chip, and finally, to add to the list of utterly crazy things that seemed to be an unavoidable part of my life lately, that freaky Robbie guy. They were all (maybe except the glass, the garbage and the chip, though I had my doubts about that one) somehow linked to that baby-faced woman that made me want to throw her in a Reactor just for the heck of it.

When we reached the bar, Yuffie had already said my name around four times, but I was too deep into my own thoughts to hear her.

* * *

That night, the house was restless. It was quiet, but it was the type of quiet that you feel your skin crawling in. I had no idea what had come over everyone, so I just shut up like a good little girl, washed up and went to bed. For a change, my hair was loose—something that didn't happen often—because I had washed it and I didn't want it to be bound as soon as usual afterwards. I hated the feeling of my hair on my shoulders. When I had short hair, it was no problem. But as it grew longer, the feeling returned; I refused to cut it due to sentimental value, so I was stuck in between.

I think that I really did need a doctor; at least, a specialist to speak to. If I kept tying my hair this tightly, it was going to fall out—no joke. I already had headaches from the constant braid. But then again, I had my reasons, even if they were cowardly. When my hair was down, it felt like I was being suffocated. I was no longer in my room or wherever it was that I was currently at; I was back at Nibelheim, the fire's hands crawling over my pajamas and burning my skin, my hair, my face; I could do nothing to lift the searing weight from my shoulders or clear the scorching veil in front of my eyes.

Just thinking about it made nausea grow in my stomach.

Dante poked my bare foot and I jumped, making my bed squeak horrendously. He placed his front paws on my mattress and then stuck his nose into my damp hair, growling contentedly. I hugged his head.

"You big baby," I whispered, pressing a kiss to his fur.

The retaliation was a lick to my cheek.

I was just about to tickle him silly when rushed footsteps thudded past my door. I frowned, releasing Dante, and stood quietly; I walked to my door and cracked it open, barely enough for me to see the hallway through a sliver of space. I squinted into the darkness and saw the door to mom's room being opened. Mom stepped inside and shut the door behind her quietly.

Never one for following rules or common sense, I slipped out of my room and padded my way to mom's door. There were sounds coming from behind the door—I just couldn't identify what. Mom's room had an awkward arrangement. When you opened the door, there was a wall to your right that jutted out and created a perfect niche for hiding. The room mom occupies in the house used to be a studio, and was never intended to be a bedroom, but necessity and lack of space made us convert it into one.

I opened the door slowly, carefully so I wouldn't alert her and poked my head into the room, hair hanging down like a damned curtain, just barely looking past the wall. As was the fashion these days, I did not see what I expected to see. Mom was sitting on her bed, bent over something she had clasped in her hands, crying.

Yep. Crying. My mother. The invincible dictator of our household was crying like a little girl, the tear trails on her cheeks shining in the light that was exuded by the street lamp outside and into her room. I felt something nasty and guilty twitch inside of me, and I all at once felt extremely bad and horrid for not trying to approach her more. Yes, she did her part of keeping her distance the past few months, but I was no angel, either. I should have known better, done better.

What she was holding became obvious to my idiotic brain. It was the locket dad had given her on their tenth anniversary. I remember how he presented it to her; he was wearing a big smile as he dangled the golden heart in front of her surprised face; I prowled the background, and made conspicuous whooping sounds when dad announced that since they were making double digits, the anniversary should be special. Up until the time of dad's death, he and mom had been married for twenty-eight years without one break; I was eight at the time that he presented her with the locket, and it had been a monstrous feat to make me sit down for the family picture that was still inside the locket.

It was strange, reflecting on all of these things whilst watching my own mother cry over a precious gift. The whole thing made it seem that I was thinking of different people with a different life. We were the shells of those people, wanting to be filled with something more substantial than memories of an other time. Feeling like my heart had been weighed down with more than just guilt, I sneaked out of the room and closed the door reverently, leaving her to cry in peace.

I could at least give her that.

* * *

Another sleepless night for me. Joy, joy. I spent a good part of the morning sighing inaudibly, looking out the window, seething at the memory of Rob-boobie (he really did remind me of a bird...), leaning on the wall and sighing some more. At the moment, I was somewhere halfway between the seething stage and the sighing-at-last-night stage. My expression, of course, must have been priceless, as Yuffie enlightened me.

"You know, if you keep scrunching your face up like that, it's going to freeze that way."

I turned a dull stare to her. With this Vincent guy hanging around Seventh Heaven, I had really gotten a better hang of my deadpan-don't-care face. We had been formally introduced a few days prior, and I finally confirmed my suspicion that his eyes were truly, honestly, naturally red. Hey, you wouldn't believe it either at first, would you? The color itself had been a tad unnerving at the part where we were supposed to shake hands since he took his jolly time to stick out his hand to be shaken, and when he did, my disfigured palm had been something that obviously drew attention. Luckily, I didn't have the time to get all jittery since the hand shake was just over three seconds long and after that, complete silence had commenced.

This is the part where I shrug. Whatever floats your boat, I guess. Though he did seem like an interesting person to talk to, I don't think he was quite used to me yet. And hey, after I've made so many blunders, I think it's safe to say I've been taught to respect other people's privacy. I propped my chin up on a hand and kept my eyes on Yuffie. In the end, I just let out another one of those insufferable sighs. I shifted, and the delicate balance of Dante's chin on my knee was thrown off.

"I'm really not in the mood."

She sat down opposite me, and stared me in the eye. It would have been a comical situation had I not been twenty miles down in the dumps. "Man, you really aren't. What's wrong?"

"Stuff."

"Oh, that's helpful."

"That's about as specific as I feel like getting," I murmured, and then pillowed my head on my good arm, half supported by the wall to my left. The sleeplessness of the past week was catching up on me, and losing sleep was just as bad as being banged against the wall for two hours straight. It caused headaches (or intensified the ones you got from your iron hard braid), bloodshot eyes, tiredness, yawning...

"Wow, someone's sleepy."

"How ever did you guess?" I said drowsily, feeling conscious thought slip away. Agh, I couldn't fall asleep. Not _here_. Just how much further am I going to intrude on these people's kindness? I don't deserve it. Last night proved to me that I'm more selfish than I initially thought. There are people worse off who still have hearts of gold. And I couldn't...follow their examples. I didn't deserve help, much less kindness.

Definitely...not...

* * *

Yuffie watched as the dispirited blonde laid her head down and almost immediately fell asleep, even breaths streaming out of her peacefully. Dante at her side placed his chin on her knee again, looking up at her with a face only a dog could conjure, his brow up and his eyes liquid. Yuffie threw a glance at the clock on the wall. Eight o'clock! Business would be starting soon. It wouldn't be very practical (or polite, for that matter) to just _leave_ Chloe there like a bag of potatoes.

But she was short, and even with her amazing ninja skills, she doubted she could move Chloe without waking her up. Yuffie's mind worked for about a nanosecond, and then she turned, smiling sweetly.

"Yo, Vi~nny...?"

The man with the scarlet gaze flicked his eyes up to hers for a moment, read the idea in them, and returned to swirling the drink in his glass. "No."

Yuffie's face fell. "Oh, come on!"

* * *

_**A/n:**_ Here I am with yet another chapter! Things are moving alooong, and I'm quite happy with it. Thank you for your reviews! Each little review birdie is a burst of sunshine for me! :D


	16. Around the Corner

_**WARNING:**_ Dear Lily gets aggravated, so you know what that means, right?

'Tis the brief return of the foul language.

_**Chapter 16**_

I was lost in an endless sea of flames, drowning in smoke and choking on ash. I stirred restlessly, frowning, not yet truly awake. I could feel the thread of wakefulness, but I was still asleep. Just when I was about to sleep again, something very cool and unpleasantly damp suckered itself onto my cheek, and I was jerked into consciousness; I found that Dante had placed his paws on my shoulders and was practically climbing onto the bed. I sunk back into the pillows, still sleepy.

That was the moment when my muscles clenched and I realized I was in a bed.

_BED._

The word blared in my mind and I shot up too quickly for my shoulder to handle, so I retreated halfway downwards with a wince and gritted teeth. I felt disorientated and out of place. The last thing I remembered was bending my head and...falling asleep on the table. I took in a deep breath, calming myself down. It was obvious something—someone—whatever had brought me up into the guest room upstairs, but at the moment I was a way too preoccupied with thoughts of 'how do I make up for this?!'to think about it too much. I took another cleansing breath.

My mind and I came to a compromise: I decided not to panic. And then, I looked out the window.

It was dark outside.

Ha ha.

PANIC.

I fell off the bed with an unsightly thump and was faced with a blossom of agony from my shoulder. I had landed awkwardly on my sneakers which had been neatly placed beside the bed. Through my pain-hazed mind, I silently thanked the person who had brought me up. But right _now_, all that mattered was getting home in time to escape mom's somberly funereal behavior that would turn even _more_ somberly funereal at my lateness. Shortly before my twenty-sixth birthday, she and I had agreed that the latest I could come home was ten. Yes, she had imposed a teenager's curfew upon someone my age, and at first I had chosen to go against it.

But now, with all the melancholy-death-doom-and-destruction vibes floating about the house, I wanted to keep to that promise.

That, and the simple truth that I had probably slept for most of the day and completely shattered the vow that I had about not imposing on Tifa's kindness was enough to send me into a mini-fit. I untangled myself from the comfortably soft quilt I had cocooned myself in during my sleep and placed it on the bed with my left hand, struggling not to use my pinched muscles. I pulled on my shoes hastily, ignoring the fact that the scrunchie at the bottom of my braid was coming loose. Dante watched me with placid eyes as I went from shock to shock and tried to make myself presentable.

When my scrunchie fell off, I metaphorically threw composure to a nasty place and stood, running a hand through my hair to get rid of any big knots and leaving the small ones for later when I had a brush and a normal heart rate. I hopped my way to the door, Dante following calmly. For once, I was the one rushing and he was the composed one.

I opened the door, straightening my sling and stepped out, feeling—as some aptly put it—wired.

Due to the fact that I was running like a beheaded chicken, I nearly bowled over someone coming up the stairs (and sent myself flying in the process), who, thankfully, was taller than me and therefore managed to steady me by the elbow. Seeing a very gold gauntlet ending in very _sharp_ fingers grasping your arm isn't the most reassuring thing, but if it means being saved from a fate of a cracked head, then you really shouldn't care. Thank Gaia for the small things. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks about that."

Crimson eyes blinked at me. "Hm," was the only reply, but I guessed it meant 'no problem' and so, when he released his grip, I continued on my way with Dante hot on my heels.

Too badly for poor wee me, the world seemed bent on making me _trip_, so when I reached the second last step of the stairs, a voice startled me into imbalance.

"Chloe! You're awake!"

I let out a yelp as Dante moved forward and my foot slipped; I tumbled my way down the last two stairs, bumping to a halt on my rear on the bottom. My legs and my back _felt_ that staircase when I stopped. I looked up to see Yuffie with an 'oops' expression on her face, which was transformed into a grin a moment later. Beyond her, the door to Seventh Heaven was shut, the sign turned to 'closed' to the people outside.

"Smooth."

"Har har." I moved my shoulder. "Ow." I stopped moving it. "_Dammit_." Can't this joint ever be satisfied?! I mean, what did I ever do to it? Besides abuse it and overwork it...

"You alright?"

I gave Tifa a small smile. "Yep. Peachy keen." I rose to my feet, blowing hair out of my face. The urge to run returned, and I pushed it down. "You have any idea what time it is?"

Tifa turned to look at the clock on the wall. "About ten thirty."

I had the weirdest impulse to laugh at it all. I had the feeling it wouldn't be exactly nice laughter, so I bottled it up and moved towards the door, stopping to take a surprised Tifa's hand and shake it vigorously. "Thanks so much for letting me stay here. I really, really appreciate it." My feet took me to the exit, and then I noticed Dante was no longer behind me.

I turned and felt my face grow dull as I saw the dog in question ogling a batch of cupcakes on the counter. You'd think he doesn't get enough treats from me. "Psst. Dante."

He didn't even turn. I became quickly impatient and tapped my foot irritably.

"I'll leave you at Bernard's next time."

It was as if he'd never seen the cupcakes in the first place. Dante swiveled about like a little robot and made a beeline for the door I was holding open. As he walked outside ahead of me. "So kind of you to come, sir," I muttered at him, and he stuck his nose up at me. I followed him and turned to the cool room behind me. "Thanks again." I closed the door, making all light from inside disappear. We were alone on the street with the humidity and the looming fluorescent lights.

Shuttle, full throttle.

* * *

The reception I got when I returned home was not one I had expecting. Then again, everything deemed unexpected by common sense seemed to have come crashing down on my head lately, so I tried to sit through it. That, my dear, was easier said than done. I had successfully made it through the kitchen without any trouble, and was about to sneak upstairs when mom caught me.

I flinched when my mother grasped me by the shoulder and shook me lightly, her voice high and unreadable. "Where were you? Oh, God, where were you, Chloe?"

"I fell asleep," I said in what I hoped to be an even voice.

"How was I supposed to know—? Didn't we agree...?"

After that came the most unexpected part of all. Mom grabbed me and pulled me into a hug, all but suffocating me with the embrace's tightness. I didn't understand it one bit. She burrowed her face into my good shoulder, and I felt the wetness seep through my shirt, making the material stick to my neck. The arms around me trembled, and for once I found myself worried. I let her hug me as I stood there uselessly, not knowing what to do.

"Mom...?"

She didn't answer, but gave a resigned sniff. "Please don't do that again. Please."

"What's gotten into you these past few months?" The questions came blurting out unintentionally. "Is there something wrong? Is it—is it the house? Tell me. I should know. I _need _to know."

"No, no..."

"Am I disappointing you? Am I doing something wrong?" I pulled away, feeling the unwelcome burn of tears in my own eyes. The last thing I needed was having a waterworks show. "Do I—?"

"No! It's not you!"

And that was pretty much it. Mom burst into tears, holding her infamous embroidered handkerchief to her face to absorb the runaway emotions. "It's not you! It's not—" another sniff "—you." She cried some more, and then practically shouted, "It's that sister of mine! I should have never—" she hiccuped here "—never agreed to that! Look where it's got us now!"

"Did someone call my name?" Aunt Lily drawled as she appeared at the top of the staircase, for once not accompanied by her entourage of cancer sticks. Mom gave a choked, angry sob at the sound of her voice, and pointed an accusing finger at her.

"_You_! You're the one that's caused all of this! I wish I had never let you meddle! Everything would be fine now, if it weren't for you!"

Aunt Lily watched impassively, blue eyes cold and impersonal. "Ah, but would it? You have no way of ever knowing, Connie."

"Damn you to hell! Damn you and your stupid, reptilian ways!"

Aunt Lily's face hardened. She didn't descend the stairs. "Are you forgetting this is my house?"

"I'm not forgetting that you didn't lift _one damn finger_ to help me and Chloe with the move. I'm not forgetting that you never work, you never clean, you never offer any sort of consolation. I'm not forgetting that _**I**_ am always the one to work you out of your hard times. I'm not forgetting that _you are my sister!_" By the time she finished, mom's face was so flushed she looked like she had been painted over with red; her tears had evaporated, and now she was angrier than I had ever seen her in my entire life. My voice was gone. But apparently, she had one last thing to say, and she wasn't about to let it slip by quietly. "I am not forgetting that _you _have put _my_ daughter in _danger_!"

There was a scathing silence, and it grated against my numb skin. Mom panted, shaking like a leaf. Aunt Lily barely seemed to breathe.

"So don't you _DARE_ _talk_ to me about **forgetting**, Lily Hayes, because your memory doesn't stretch as nearly as long as mine!"

Lily was silent as mom swept past her, even making room for her on the stairway. I stared like an idiot, aware of Dante cowering behind me. I absentmindedly stretched a hand behind me and patted him on the head, drawing him close. All three of us heard mom's door slam. Dante cringed at the sound of it.

The sudden argument, for me, was too much to comprehend. My ears still rung with the force of mom's shouts, which seemed to have invaded me even with my soundproof core. Why had it started in the first place? At the moment, I couldn't give a flying farthing about what was at the bottom of of all of this discontented filth. I didn't want to know. I let my stare connect with Lily's, and shook my head.

"I'm not even going to ask," I hissed, gently pulling the frozen-stiff Dante away by the collar and heading back towards the kitchen.

I knew where the hidden coffee stash was, and by Gaia, I had never needed one as much as I did then.

* * *

To say the next morning was quiet would be an understatement. Mom came down from her room to clean the windows. She didn't touch her breakfast and Lily didn't bother to come down. I dined in relative silence, letting my thoughts fill up the gaps that were usually brimming with voices. I was grateful for the lack of cigarette smoke. I was toying with a piece of my leftover bread crust when I came to the conclusion that I felt like I was going to burst. I knew what to say. I would have to cope with the repercussions afterwards since I didn't plan on staying. I'd say what I had to say and then hightail it out of the house and return in the evening. I didn't know what I'd do and I wasn't even sure that I'd go to Seventh Heaven. I needed some time alone. I didn't have much of that these days. Alone time usually consisted of long, long walks with Dante in mutual quietness.

"What was yesterday all about?"

Mom stopped washing the dish she was rinsing the minute the sentence had left my mouth. She gripped her rinsing towel hard, hard, until I thought her knuckle-bones were going to pop out of her hands. Her head turned towards me, but she didn't face me. I wasn't used to seeing these expressions on mom's face. Mom was always the composed, kind person with a smile for everyone and a piece of apple pie to nurse your every ailment. Now she was a withdrawn lady who scarcely talked to her family.

"I'm not the one to answer that, Chloe."

My blood boiled at that statement, and before I could restrain myself, my temper had exploded (yet again). I slammed my glass down on the table, internally apologizing to Dante. "Then _who _is?! Why do I get the feeling that we're keeping a secret and I'm the only one in the _freaking dark_? Things were never this way! We didn't always get along, but things were okay. Why has this changed?"

"That's a lot of whys," my mother whispered, bending over the sink.

"I want them to be _less_. There's something you're not telling me, and I'm getting pissed." I pushed my chair away, trying to create as less noise as possible. "Your sister," I said, pointing to the ceiling, "is probably up there, listening to us and _laughing_. This—" I gestured "—seems to be what she wants. Unless she tells me differently, there's nothing I can do to change my attitude. When you guys feel ready to talk like people with brains between their ears, I'll be back."

I angrily flicked my braid off my shoulder and then bent to pull Dante out from under the table. I walked outside the kitchen and to the door. When I looked back, mom had followed me. I pushed her troubled gaze out of my mind. I grabbed Dante's leash from the hooks and latched it on, making sure it was fastened well.

"That said, you won't be seeing me until the clock hits PM. Catch you drama bozos later." I clicked the door shut and tugged softly on Dante's leash. We walked out of the house, down the porch and the little path; when we were out of the fence's reach, a weight crushed my shoulders, but I was determined not to pay heed to it. Dante whined and trotted in place, resembling a nervous chocobo. "Let's get walking," I said, starting off in no particular direction.

The walk was slow, considering that I was walking at the pace of a slug with mononucleosis. The route wasn't all that scenic (oh, ho, ho, what a surprise) but I enjoyed that there was no nagging Lily around us to disrupt the buzz of the city. Man, I really was losing it. I started looking at the buzz of the city as something relaxing. I never thought I'd admit that. I had been the type of little girl to hang off dangerous overhangs and spend nights in tree-houses (an activity that often contributed to dad's heart condition). A bajillion years ago, when I still lived in Nibelheim, I thought moving to the city would be the death of me.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

We got to the very plushy neighborhood of Edge (gardens, large houses and the like) when I was starting to actually feel a tiny smidgeon more relaxed. It was not to last. Something poked me in the good shoulder. What _is it_ with people and having physical contact with me nowadays? I was ready to murder whoever it was that had poked me, but the person's presence alone was enough to make me shut up and contemplate my next spoken words. A hand draped across my shoulder.

"Hey, princess, how's it going?"

"Get the hell _off_, Tussen."

I shrugged Bernie away, skin prickling. I was disgusted and in no mood to talk to anyone. The only talking I actually was in the mood for was the type with _no talking_—which did not exist. So, therefore, we come to the conclusion that I didn't want to talk. Dante growled.

"Whoa! Honey, what'd ya do to your hand?"

"A fiend bit it," I grumbled.

"Now, now, what'd I do? Are you in a prickly mood?" He sized me up and then leaned back. "You _are_ in a prickly mood. Oh, well, I'll hang around you anyway."

"I don't want you to." I moved evasively, trying to avoid his path. He sidestepped with agility and blocked my path.

"Is that any way to speak to your best friend?"

My patience was running thin. "Best friends don't back-stab each other."

He quirked an eyebrow. "What d'you mean?"

"You're a bright young man. Figure it out, Tussen." Once again, I moved past him, not looking back. Little devil Chloe was sitting on my left shoulder with a bomb in her hand, cackling like a cartoon gone bad. I was sorely tempted to let her explode in Bernie's face, but I banished the thoughts from my mind and little devil Chloe disappeared in a poof of extraordinarily red smoke. A sign that you are losing your sanity: you see devil-mini-me versions of you hopping on your shoulder. Well, if the devil was present, then where was the angel? Maybe she was sitting somewhere in a deep, dark, dank dungeon of my brain, mournfully strumming her tiny harp and sadly singing 'Woe betide us!'

"Wa-a-ait!" Bernie whined, moving surprisingly fast and blocking my way again. I had managed to get only two or three steps away from him, and now we were standing in front of a large townhouse. Had I been more observant, I would have noticed someone standing behind us.

"I don't want to talk."

"How 'bout a walk?"

"I don't want to walk with you."

"Well, then, how about a coffee?"

"I don't want a coffee."

Hey, this was getting redundant.

He pouted, crossing his arms. And man, did that ever look wrong. "What's the matter with you today? You're usually never this mean, although I can think of a few occasions...like the time I let a new batch of watermelons fall on you and stain your favorite jacket. You were pretty mean then."

"I'm mean _now_," I snarled, patience thinning, "and I can think of more than one painful way of getting rid of you."

He looked horrified. "You don't have a spoon with you, do you?"

"No, but I have my switch-knife. Get _out_ of my way."

He moved closer.

I was going to have to resort to that, wouldn't I? Dante pawed the ground at my side, staring unpleasantly at Bernie. I had absolutely no qualms about hurting Bernie at the moment. I had the right to be sadistic once in a while, didn't I? I wasn't as bad as his coworker, though. Compared to Tyr, I was a disobedient student. I reached down and unlatched Dante's lead from his collar.

"Hey! You're not wearing your gloves."

"Congratulations on noticing."

"Come to think of it, I've never seen—"

I patted Dante's head. "He's all yours, buddy." I watched in satisfaction as Bernie's face went a pasty shade of pale. Dante barked loudly and then set off after Bernie, who was smart enough to get his ass into gear and run down the suburban street. Not caring that people were watching ("Ack! Kids these days!"), I hooked the fingers of my left hand through the loop of my jeans and enjoyed the show as I took in the sight of Dante chasing Bernie over a series of obstacles, some of which included hedges, fences, higher fences, even _higher_ fences and several series of garden gnomes.

Someone descended the steps of the house behind me, coming oddly to a stop right next to me.

"...Chloe?"

I turned and was surprised. "Oh, hey, Cloud! Doing deliveries?"

He nodded wordlessly and raised an eyebrow when Dante and Bernie whizzed past us, former panting happily and latter practically begging for mercy.

"For God's sake, call your dog off! Call him _oooooff!"_

I raised my hand and cupped my mouth so my shout would be amplified. "Don't worry, Bernster! He doesn't bite—much!"

As Dante and Bernie went through the suburban obstacle course again, there was a slight pause. And then: "Is everything alright?"

I gave Cloud the brightest smile I could muster, which probably unnerved the chap a bit. "Oh, yes. Just fine."

* * *

The walk home was peacefully lonely. There was no one to bother me, and Dante was happy as a whistle (come to think of it, can whistles be happy...?). Bernie had taken off, thank Gaia, and I had given a slightly confused Cloud a goodbye as we walked away. Seeing Bernie being chased like that had put a definite skip in my step. Evil, I know, but it's alright for one day. I'm entitled to being evil every now and then. I was humming an obscure tune as we approached the house, but it was stifled when I heard Lily's voice.

"Now, now, what've we got here?"

"Greetings, my darling. It's certainly been a while, hasn't it?"

I froze up, stopping. Dante walked in front of me, so the poor dog choked when the leash pulled on him abruptly. Then, he caught onto what I was listening and sat by my side, ears perked up.

"I'd have preferred it if it were longer," Lily snapped.

I decided to take a risk and poked my head around the corner. Oh, dear. Anymore surprises and I'd be admitted for heart irregularities at the hospital. Standing just in front of the fence of _my_ house was none other than the onetime Rob-boobie. Lily was standing in front of him, leaning casually against the fence and barring his entrance with a single hand that ended in a smoking cigarette clasped between delicate fingers.

"I've come to deliver a message, sweet-cheeks."

Lily scowled. "What, are you gonna try to bump me off again? Haven't you learned that I don't leave so easily yet?"

The face of the person in front of her contorted, and suddenly he was much scarier than before. He craned himself forward, looking like a crooked phasmid of a man. "No, no, not _you, _sugar pie. It's that pretty little niece of yours." He laughed loudly and crassly as I felt my body growing cold. "Didja honestly think that I didn't know what you've done? It was very valiant of you, trying to protect her, but you should have thought of that before Millie came running to us."

My aunt's expression was suddenly livid. Her hands clenched the fence, and I watched as she extinguished the cigarette on the palm of her hand. "That _bitch_."

Robert smirked. "You see, I knew you were going to react this way. You're hot when you're angry."

"Say that again, you frog-faced freak, and I'll knock you clean into the Lifestream." Lily slammed the fence's gate shut between them, and then gritted her teeth. I hadn't known she could show such a face. "You lay _one hand_ on Chloe and no one will ever find your remains, bastard."

"Tut, tut, Lily! I thought you knew the game better than this!" He gave her a grin full of meticulously aligned teeth. "She's the second part to the puzzle. You know how much my boss loves _puzzles_."

"She's got absolutely nothing to do with this."

"Ah, but you involved her anyway."

"It was different back then."

Robert took on a thoughtful mask and tapped his finger on his chin. "Oooh, you're _right_. Back then you were a manipulative skank. You've definitely changed _very_ much."

The woman on the left stood taller and for a single, terrifying second, I thought she was going to see me. "Shut it and get off my property, Prescott."

He only laughed again. "Will do, honey bunch." The atmosphere plummeted in temperature when he smiled again chillingly. "Just remember: we're not going easy anymore, Lil. Watch your precious niece. I know several guys that'd like to have their way with her."

My stomach dropped to my toes.

"_Out_!"

And Robert turned on his heel, still half-laughing, hands in pockets and walked away casually, singing a bawdy song about Wutaian women.

I wasn't quite able to move afterwards. I had just gotten myself into an okay mood. Maybe I really shouldn't have come home. Camping out suddenly seemed like a ridiculously good idea. I was just about to turn and leave when something stopped me.

"You can come out now."

I very nearly let out a embarrassingly squeal-like girlish scream, but didn't in the end. Instead, I slowly emerged from my not-really-hiding place and gravitated towards Lily and looked her in the face. Dante's head thudded against my leg. My voice sounded like I had just downed a gallon of whiskey. "Who was...that?"

Lily had lit another cigarette. She took a long, hard drag before answering me. I suspect she needed it. "That, Sprout, was my ex."

* * *

_**A/n:**_ Chloe has dropped the 'aunt' title! Finally. :D Longest chapter in AtB history. You guys are quite seriously the best readers ever! :) The amount of new reviews/alerts surprised and delighted me. Thank you so much! I hope you keep it up. ;)


	17. It's All In the Science

_**NOTE:**_ You may not recognize one location in this chapter.

Think of it as geographical fudging. :(

It's vital to the plot, though, and my memory isn't all that good...

_**Chapter 17**_

I had none of the copyrighted movie reactions. I didn't faint (Lord, no!), didn't have my jaw go slack; I didn't scream, go pale, or suffer tremors. Even after Lily ushered me in and sat me down at the the sofa around the coffee table, I was still holding Dante's leash in my right hand, breathing somewhat steadily. I waited as Lily lit another cigarette and extinguished her previous one on the ashtray on the table. Mom wasn't at home. She had apparently disappeared into the isles of the infamous supermarket and it was sure she wasn't going to return any time soon. It was going to get dark any minute now.

I waited until after Lily had blown a plume of smoke in my face to speak. "Trust someone like you to be married to a stalker."

"Oy," she said coolly, blue eyes appraising me, "he was _really_ good looking in our heydays. And besides, it was purely for business. It's not like I loved him, anyway."

I was not fazed. "I want explanations. I heard what he said. You _know_ I heard. And if you can't provide the answers I want, I'm not obliged to look here for my solutions."

Lily's gaze pierced through me for an eternal second. It snapped away, the cord of tension severed and she sighed, exhaling another puff of gray smoke. "You're so much like me that it's scary, Sprout."

"I'm nothing like you."

"I beg to differ. Before you explode on me, let me tell you that I'll give you explanations. It's kind of stupid to believe someone like you wouldn't find out eventually. So, you're finally going to be liberated. Keep your ass put until I come back." And she got up, walking swiftly towards the stairs. She was gone for several minutes. I unlatched Dante's leash and let him go free, and traced the edges of the table nearest to me, not knowing what I was exactly waiting for. I felt no apprehension, although my heart was close to self-destructing between my ribs. Lily came down soon after I came close to getting up and slammed a file the size of Wutai down onto the table, making the table itself and everything on its surface rattle.

"That's for you, sweetheart. The front page'll give you a bit of an insight. Sit tight. It's a long, long story."

Unsure of what lay beneath the beige folder, I turned over one of its leaves and took out the first paper on a very large pile. It was a little packet, and consisted of many papers stapled together. The writing staring out at me was slightly faded and the pages' edges were dogeared, the font of the letters square, cold, and impersonal. I started to read it from the top, not letting anything escape my sight. If this was going to offer me some sort of information, I was going to read every word. The last section was hand-written, I noticed, scrawled in neatly slanting script colored a dark blue.

→**forward: MISSION DOCUMENT**

**SHINRA ELECTRICPOWER COMPANY**

**OBJECTIVE: **_Specimen (_verified, no. 536_) enclosed within crate is to be_

_transferred to Da Chao Caves. Elaboration on location will _

_be given on-site by agent. Specimen is to be handled as fragile_

_object. Any wear or damage done to cargo will be punished by _

_stripping of rank, expulsion and payment of fine specified by _

_the owner of the specimen. Reach southern region_

_of the Da Chao Caves at approximately 2300 hours. _

_Lateness will not be tolerated under any circumstances._

_Mission is to be terminated at 0100 hours._

**COURIER(s):** _Lilian Amanda Hayes, _no. 3909

_Milicent Serres-Conway _no. 1004

**TRANSPORATION:** _Officers _3909_ and _1004_ will be intercepted at _

_landing ground B. Jet chartered for Da Chao Caves will _

_transport to specified destination. Cargo is to be carried in cabinet._

_IDs and verification of status is required for entrance._

**COMMUNICATION:**_ Officers _3909_ and_ 1004 _are prohibited from carrying_

_any form of electronic devices: mobile phones, PDAs, computers, electronic_

_organizers, portable entertainment platforms &c. so as not to endanger, _

_disclose information or otherwise compromise _

_location and sensitive equipment on-site._

**ADDITIONAL COMMENTS:** _Cargo should be treated with utmost care._

_Movements and transportation should be monitored carefully. Employ_

_your skills to cover any tracks. This is a must. Remember that well._

_A reminder to the couriers: a delicate mission has been entrusted to you._

_Make sure that what you do follows protocol. Under no circumstances_

_are you to step outside the lines set by the Professor. _

_That said: good luck, girls!_

**SIGNED: **_ Lewis Gwin _ (**supervising officer**)

I blinked.

I blinked again.

"Everything is so clear now," I said slowly and deliberately, putting the paper down. Ugly anger flashed across Lily's face.

"Ya don't need to be that nasty, Sprout," she mumbled behind her cigarette, proceeding to pluck it out from between her lips and holding it with her thumb and index finger. "I said I'd explain, din' I?"

Allowing myself to sit back, I took the paper with me and rested it on my lap. "Hit me with your best shot, _Lil_."

She flinched visibly at the shortened version of her name, and then seemed to decide that I wasn't kidding. She let out a puff of smoke through her nostrils, resembling an irritated cartoon character with miraculously steam-exuding airways. Lily took one last drag, allowing the tendrils of smoke to leak out through her mouth behind clenched, surprisingly white teeth. Now she looked disconcertingly like a dragon in one of my childhood picture books.

"Fine, then. I _will_. You won't know what hit you, darlin'." She was unsettlingly serious. "When this story starts, you weren't even on the horizon. Well, there wasn't much trouble then, but anyways, you already know that I used to be employed over at ShinRa. I'm not very proud of it, considering what's happened in the last few years, and it's sure caused a hell of a lot more trouble than any of the money I got was worth."

"I'm not sure I understood that."

"That's alright. What you need to understand comes later." She positioned herself better on the couch, and her gaze grew hard. "I've only got two conditions for your explanations."

My silence prompted her to continue.

"One: you don't interrupt. At all."

I nodded.

"Two: you don't try to murder me after I finish."

My eyebrow quirked at that one, but I silently accepted it nonetheless. Lily observed me for a tiny moment, as if she were trying to make sure whether to continue or not. A small staring match ensued, and I think (think) I won. She broke off her eye contact and stared out the window. I didn't expect her to begin talking when she was facing away from me, but hey—who was I to say anything?

"Being young can do a lot of things to you."

I did _not_ like the way this was starting.

"And for me, I decided that the way to let off my energy, achieve what I wanted to achieve, was to get a job at ShinRa. My best friend roped me into it, really, but I wanted it all the same. I'd read about the big achievers at ShinRa, and I'll admit it—I wanted to be one of them. So, chipper and stupid, I became a kind of an odd-jobber around ShinRa offices. It wasn't anything sparkly or glamorous: I ferried papers around, got coffee for the stuck-up people, cleaned offices, sorted things in the archives...the usual," she said, still not looking at me. "I was obviously competent in whatever I did, so the person who was my supervising officer suggested that I do a slightly larger delivery."

"Lewis Gwin, right?"

Her frosty glare was instant and murderous. "I said: no interruptions."

Oh-kay. Shutting up now.

"He gave me a package and told me to act as a courier. It was just a bunch of papers—bureaucracy, gibberish—and asked me to take it to Kalm, to the house of a businessman. I agreed, of course, and took his place. The businessman tried to slam the door in my face, 'cause he thought I was a door-to-door salesman. And then..." She stopped for a moment, looking a little nervous. "...And then I cussed him out, because it had taken me more than half my afternoon to get to Kalm due to traffic. He completely went ballistic on me."

I'd never heard Lily sounding so...well, so human. This was so much information about her, compared to the little fragments I had gathered over the years I knew her. Even as a kid, my knowledge about Lily had been limited. I never even knew the name of her ex when they were married. Kind of tells you how much my family loved Robert. I remember mom grabbing her rolling pin (the same one Lily used to try to conk dad over the head with) and shouting into the phone when Robert called after the divorce. When I'd asked who that was, she'd said, "No one important, honey. Just a bad man."

Lily continued. "But after that, I sorta gained a reputation over at the office, and before I knew it, everyone was piling the deliveries to the crankiest and most difficult clients on me. It was a bit overwhelming at first, but I got used to it. After a nice list of successes with said cranky clients, I was promoted to official courier. Huzzah, right?"

She paused and took a breath, looking down at her hands. "After getting promoted, I was assigned to a partner." She nodded towards the paper. "Her name was Milicent, but she hated it; she told everyone to call her Millie."

This was what everyone called a turning point in the story, right?

"We became good friends," Lily said, shrugging, "and I didn't see any problem in working with her. SOLDIER was in its prime when we were working over there, so it was a pretty good point in time to be employed at ShinRa. The old President was a little harsh, but other than that, things went pretty smoothly. Money came easy. I got married..." Her face adopted a thoughtful mask. "And then, one day, Millie and I received that paper." I knew she meant the mission document.

"We were enthused, of course." Lily scowled. "It was a job from very 'high up,' if you know what I mean. We'd never taken on such a job before. I know what you're thinking: 'It's just a crate, right?' Well, it was. Sort of. The important thing was _inside_ the crate, and over there, it's only referred to as 'the specimen.' And yes, you'll learn what the specimen was, but I'm saving that for later. I don't want to die just yet."

She cleared her throat and put out her last cigarette, haloing her blonde head with crowns of smoke.

"So we delivered the crate. It wasn't as hard as the government-speak made it look, and for a while we were proud. Except that afterwards, repercussions followed." I saw her grit her teeth painfully, heard them grind. Whatever was coming was not pleasant. "Millie was a mole for another company. It was a baby corporation back then, but you might know it nowadays as Prisma Co."

Oh, no.

"She spilled all about the mission," Lily growled, and laced her fingers together, resting her chin on the knotted flesh. "Aftereffects were not pretty. The President sent Turks after Millie, and they left her for dead somewhere in the slums. We all thought she had died. In return, everyone back at the company thought I had something to do with it, that I was her accomplice. I was thrown in a cell and interrogated for days on end by people that I knew. One reason I left ShinRa. I was...rescued, but that's a different story."

This is the part where I say something witty. I got nothing.

"It turned out that Millie hadn't, quite actually, died in the slums. I found out personally after a few months. I still worked at ShinRa at the time. She was...different from when I knew her. She tried to get more info out of me—but you see, I really wasn't the one who had organized the mission and all. That had been the Professor. He had taken measures for the safety of the cargo. That didn't necessarily mean _I _was safe, though."

Lily coughed conveniently and blinked rapidly. Dude. My aunt was tearing up? Where's the camera?!

...Wow, nastiness.

"It didn't matter, though. She knew the location of the specimen, and I thought that's all that mattered. Not so, Sprout. Professor saw this coming. He had planned ahead—as always. Even though Millie knew where the cargo was, she couldn't do anything to get to it. There's a hell lot of technology in her way."

Lily paused and looked at me. "This isn't making much sense, is it?"

"No, not really," I admitted, feeling muddled.

"Okay, then. Backtrack. Maybe it's time for me to die." She cleared her throat again before launching into the new topic. "I'm sure you know about Zack Fair and Cloud Strife, right? You know, SOLDIERs, lots of Mako, people dropping dead like flies..."

I nodded vaguely. Where was this going, exactly...?

"The primary reason most all of this happened was a man called Professor Hojo. Head honcho of the Science Department over at ShinRa, a helluva piece of work. Completely bonkers, in his own right. Loved... 'experiments.' Most of those experiments were not carried out on willing subjects." Lily's face screwed up for a moment in pure disgust, and then she finished her opening speech. "Imagine his excitement when a Calamity like Jenova landed on our Planet. He was utterly consumed by it. I had the lovely pleasure of meeting this man when I was at ShinRa. I must say, I'm glad he's dead."

Not quite reassuring, dear aunt.

"He had a kid—an experiment—with Dr. Lucrecia Crescent. How those two ever got together is beyond me. Dr. Crescent was the sweetest person you'd ever know. She was caring and kind, and all that nice fairytale stuff. She treated patients with feeling. Never really behaved towards them as if they were some sort of object or chattel. You'd probably know their kid. His name was Sephiroth."

Well, I knew what this part was. This was the part when the entire world fell apart around my ears.

"Don't ask how I know. Let me just get to the point. Lots of shit went down during that time, experiment-wise and war-wise. Things weren't nice. And of course, Professor Hojo took precautions to protect his most precious experiment, Jenova. The man was absolutely obsessed with that _thing's_ cells. I don't know what fascinated him so much. But then again, look at how Sephiroth turned out—that'll tell you something."

"So how does this all tie in?"

"I'm getting there!" she snapped irritably, making my own temper jerk. "He knew that Jenova, inevitably, would be destroyed, one day. It was unavoidable. So he decided to send a backup amount to a place where no one would suspect it would be. ShinRa was in the middle of a _war_ with Wutai. What better place to hide your belongings than under your enemies' noses?"

I finally got the gist of how one was related to the other. So I started praying. Hard.

"The specimen inside the crate was a sample of Jenova cells: frozen, packaged and ready for shipping. I delivered it myself."

Correction. _Now_ the world was falling apart around my ears.

"Prisma Co., in the last few years, has become increasingly interested in genetic engineering. Millie knows where the sample is. Are you catching on? It's a large corporation with many, many employees. Prisma wants that sample. Very much, I might add. But—there's something standing in their path. It's not as simple as marching into Wutai and opening up the cavern. There's a method. There's a _way_ to get inside." She paused, probably waiting for me to take out the butcher knife. It would come later. Right now, she needed to finish her story.

"Getting into the caves is easy enough," Lily said carefully, slowly. "But there are two things that you've got to do in order open up the system and get to the sample. First, enter a code so the system will start up. Get past security—passwords, numbers, usernames, locations... Second, activate the computer itself, which will, in turn, open the vault for you. The computer is initiated by adding a missing piece to its circuit, a chip which has been removed a long time ago."

You are _kidding_ me.

There is _no way in hell..._is there?

Could that have happened?

Without my permission?

"The first part of the 'puzzle' is with me," Lily murmured, not noticing the fact that I had probably gone whiter than any white object in existence. "The code is engraved on something that I have with me all the time. I was entrusted with the chip as well, after Millie ran to Prisma, but I didn't feel safe with it. If someone killed me, they'd get both parts at the same time. The best course of action at the time seemed to be—"

"To foist the chip on your little niece," I completed, not bothering to keep the revulsion of my voice.

Her eyes went wide, wide, wide, and all the color seeped out of her face. She dropped the lighter she had been holding and it fell to the table with a clatter. "How did you know?"

"I had an X-ray done at the doctor's. He was enamored with it, you know. Thought it was a work of art. I'll ask you, how did you ever get that damn thing inside of me?" 'Angry beyond comprehension' would have been an apt description for me at the moment. "I'm sure I'd remember a lengthy surgery that grafted a _chip_ to my _bone_."

"I-it wasn't a surgery." She stutters now? It must be divine intervention. "The chip was liquefied, modified to react to calcium and alkalies, and then—"

"—injected," I supplied again.

"You remember?"

And much to my horror, I did.

_The little girl sitting on the padded counter was wearing a childish frown; one that didn't bode __well for either woman accompanying her. She crossed her tomboy's scarred hands over her chest and deepened her frown. The doctor's office with the colorful posters and the funny smell made her uneasy. "I don't want to."_

_One of the women—the one with brown eyes—sighed at the statement. "You have to, honey. It's your shots."_

_"Where's dad?"_

_"Daddy's at work right now, baby," the woman said softly, ruffling her daughter's hair. "He'll be back in the afternoon, and then we can tell him what a brave girl you were."_

_"She doesn't fall for things like that, Connie," snorted the female at the right of the girl, pushing blonde hair out of her cornflower hued eyes. She turned to the little girl with a glare that could be reserved for an adult. "Listen here, Sprout. You're going to get that shot. The doctor's been paid by me, and I don't want to waste my money."_

_"Lily! You shouldn't say stuff like that to her. It's not like she would take notice of that, anyway." Constance placed a hand on the little girl's head, drawing her close. _

_"ShinRa doctors don't come easy, darlin'. She's going to get that shot whether she wants to or not," Lily drawled, stoically unamused. _

_The green-eyed child looked just about ready to explode into a tantrum. "I don't want to get a shot! I don't want to!"_

_"Are you sure, Lily...? This wouldn't turn into a problem later on, would it?"_

_Lily shrugged. "It's a 'just in case.' No one would kill a kid, would they?" Though she doubted that herself, Constance was not a hardened person, and words like that could easily trick Lily's gullible sister into believing her. That shot had to get to the little girl. Lily's entire life depended on it. It was quite a shame that the blonde hadn't the foresight to predict that later on she wouldn't maintain this apathy towards her niece. _

_"I suppose not..."_

_And at that moment, the door swung open and in stepped the long-awaited for doctor. He was a certified pediatrician, Lily remembered, but also did company calls for ShinRa. "Always helped to have a little side job," Dr. Plyr said. So here he was, all decked out in his white robe and immaculately black shoes, complete with groomed hair and a bright face split in half by a smile. The door closed softly behind him._

_"Who's my patient today?"_

_"I am," the firm, young voice said as the girl raised her hand. "My name's Chloe."_

_"Well, hello there, Chloe. You know what we're going to do today? It's a very special day for you."_

_"I'm going to get a shot. Please don't talk to me like that. I'm not stupid."_

_Taken aback at the girl's blunt manner, Dr. Plyr straightened and shot a look at Lily. "At least I know which side of the family __**she**__ takes after."_

_"Spare us the yadda-yadda, doc," Lily groused, leaning against the counter (which came up to about her waist, considering it was for children), elbows supporting her. _

_"You one hundred percent positive, Hayes?"_

_Lily rolled her eyes. "God! Why is everyone asking about this today? Yes! I'm sure—completely, absolutely, utterly, wholly sure. I'm not even the kid's mother, for gods' sakes! Ask her!"_

_Dr. Plyr turned to Constance. "Mrs. Browne?"_

_Constance was happily oblivious. "I don't see why not. Go ahead, doctor."_

_He nodded considerately and then proceeded to snap on a pair of gloves. He lifted Chloe's sleeve to the sound of her protests and drilling insults and disinfected a patch on her upper arm. When he drew out the needle, Chloe's face tightened to the point of appearing painful to the onlookers. When he inserted the needle into the soft top of the bottle and sucked an ominous looking vine-colored liquid into the syringe, Chloe's equally green eyes flared open to the size of tea saucers. The substance fizzed __lightly in the syringe. _

_And when he gently slid the hair-thin needle under her skin, Chloe yelled._

When I tuned in again, my channel wasn't receiving good signal. Everything was fuzzy, muted. You know what? Now it _really_ sucks to be me. Oh, well. Not every girl's got a chip embedded in her bone. Yay for uniqueness and wallowing in self-pity.

"So what now?" I asked blandly, hoping for a straightforward answer.

"Think about it," Lily said, still a little shaky. "Prisma Co. primarily wants us because they want to get to the sample itself. ShinRa wants to rid itself of the stigma of Jenova. Excuse the pun."

"Basically, both sides are out to get us and both their methods end up in our bodily dismemberment and possibly our death."

"In a way."

"D'you think we could strike up a deal?"

"...Go on."

"If ShinRa wants to get rid of Jenova, we could let them access the vault and allow them to destroy whatever's inside. Jenova goes kablooie and we return to our normal lives."

"Way too simple, hon. Things don't work like that."

"But it's a solution!" I seriously did not understand why it wouldn't work. And then my mind rudely reminded me of Bernie, Reno and Tyr. Well, joy. If they had wanted to talk to me, I'm sure the latter of the three would have sat down and _talked _to me, not pressed a gun to my head or chased me through a greenhouse, all the way to the dumpster alleys of Edge. Now I officially know that the Turks (at least Tyr) didn't want to talk.

"We're a liability, Sprout. For them, if we pick to help the opposing side, it very well may be the devastating financial blow. Can you _imagine_ what would happen if people merged with Jenova started walking around again?" Lily said, placing her pallid hands on the table.

"Let's add up the pros and the cons of each one," I said, feeling oddly pragmatic and detached. I counted them on my fingers as I went. "Cons first, as always. ShinRa: known dispensers of murderers and one particularly unstable SOLDIER; they 'interrogated' you; they used to be the largest and most powerful company on the Planet; at one point nearly sucked all the Lifestream out of the Planet; caused mass Mako-poisoning; devastated Wutai and wiped out most of their troops during the war; Professor Hojo." The last one was a con all on its own. "Pros? Let's see. Recently had a low profile in terms of company activity. That's pretty much it."

My brain was tired. Not that I paid too much attention to the fact...

"Prisma Co. Sent Rob-booby after you and me; probably tried to kill you by rigging an accident; recruited a mole and let her become your friend; sent that stupid computer; out to get us; way too rich for its own good; has creepy employees." I paused. "Pros? None that I know of."

There was silence for a while. I was feeling venomously acidic at the moment.

"Boy, it's so difficult to choose between these two saintly Samaritans."

"Is there an 'off' button for your sarcasm?"

"Hy-po-crite." I stood and brushed off my pants. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to bed with a piece of my sanity still intact." Before I stepped on the first stair, I turned, deciding to ask my last question. "Why did you marry Robert, anyway?"

"I told you. It was business. I worked at ShinRa, he worked at Prisma. We needed intel on Prisma's movements, and marrying one of their employees was a good way to get it."

"Wow. They do matchmaking, too? A multi-talented company if I ever saw one."

"Hmph."

Another pause. I watched her light a cigarette with too much force. "You liked that Lewis person, didn't you?" So much for the last question.

The lighter sputtered, making me grateful for the flame's death. Get this: Lily blushed. I don't mean just a tad bit of apple-color around the cheeks. I'm talking about a full blown red flag on her face. It stretched from her neck to the roots of her hair, making her look ridiculously young. She slammed the lighter down, puffing smoke like a chimney. "Get to _bed_!"

I smiled faintly and turned away.

Divine intervention indeed.

–

Next day dawned a 'thinking day' for me. Despite several valiant attempts on Lily's part (and no attempts on mom's part at all) to keep me cooped up like a chicken, I disobeyed Grand Mother Hen and opened the door to spend my morning at Seventh Heaven. I couldn't sustain a proper train of thought on the premises of my own house. It was either mom's clattering in the kitchen or Lily's consistent 'puff puff puff,' or Dante's deranged jumping about that disrupted me. So left Dante to the mercy of the household and walked to Seventh Heaven; and sat down for a morning full of forcing my gray matter into coming up with some sort of a way to cope with everything that had been shoved on me the day before.

Too badly for my plans (which were, as always, foiled), Seventh Heaven turned out to be having a bit of a Visitor Day and so I didn't get much quiet. Barret had been in the neighborhood and he had stopped by to see Marlene. Most of my ideas were invaded by too many fluffy moments that I had spent with my dad in my childhood, since there was a fearsomely 'father-daughter' atmosphere to the right of me. It was a bit silly, but I was envious of Marlene, in a way. It's a stupid notion, since the kid has been through more in her young years than I every have, but I missed my dad. Very much.

About half an hour after I arrived, Barret gathered up Marlene and Denzel and said he was taking them somewhere special (couldn't someone have taken me as well?). So the trio trooped out of the bar and the rest of the visitors stayed behind.

Red XIII had dropped in, too, and at the moment was trying to pacify a mini-argument that had broken out between Yuffie and Cait Sith about the usefulness of materia. Tifa was in the kitchen with Cloud and Reeve (who I had met only just a few weeks ago—his work kept him busy), giving an impromptu lesson in how to make a special Costa de Sol omelet. From what I smelled and heard, it was a very _big_ omelet for everyone at lunch. Vincent, as usual, was sitting at one of the tables and seemed deep in thought in all his scarlet broodiness. Well, it's not like I did anything else than brood, either, so who am I to accuse or comment?

I was just about to begin the systematic bashing of my head on the table (I had already toyed with every single dangly string and/or object I could find attached to my sling), when a voice shattered my plans for head cracking.

"Something troubles you."

I looked up to see Red sitting neatly before me. Argument over, I assumed. I laughed quietly, refraining from any head bashing at the moment. "Dead on. Something always is, these days."

"You are upset?"

I reflected on my feelings for a moment, before strangely replying, "Way too weirdly, no. Not really. I guess I'm just tired, that's all."

"Your description applies to your appearance."

See, this is why I enjoyed talking to Red. Unlike Lily (who could make _all_ of her comments sound hurtful if she put her mind to it), Red made comments that could be insulting but were actually comforting. His leonine head tilted to the side in question, crimson fur ruffling.

"You don't have to listen to my rambling. I could bore the graphite out of a pencil, so you're not obligated to stay if you don't like."

"No, on the contrary, I find human emotions and the way you deal with them interesting."

"Then I'm glad I can at least provide some entertainment."

"Oh, more than that. It is refreshing to give my opinions to you. Your honesty is appreciated."

I smiled. "Some people would call that 'brutal honesty,' Red, but it's good that you like it. It's not going anywhere anytime soon." I paused slightly, and then, "Here's one example of it. Right now, science is my least favorite subject in the world."

Too true.

–

_**A/n:**_ Longer than last time, too! All these explanations! I hope I didn't muddle it completely or make it utterly unrealistic. --iz shott--


	18. Time Is Money

_**A/n:**_ Sorry about the wait! D: Things were all suitcases and UFBs (Unidentified Flying Belongings) when we got back from the trip, and it's taken quite a while to settle in. I promise to reply to reviews as soon as I can. With school looming around the corner, I've got some stuff I need to do. Well, without further ado, here's Chapter 18!

_**Chapter 18**_

The interesting thing about being someone who has a crazy aunt is that you can use it as an excuse to escape the house. It's exactly what I was doing. Ha-ha. I am insanely proud of myself. Well, the day after Lily 'told me' went something like this: Lily told mom that she had told me. Lily was figuratively killed by mom because she thought Lily had destroyed my mental structure forever by telling me. Mom told me that Lily told me. I answered that I knew that Lily told me, since I was, quite in fact, the person she told 'it' to. Then Lily was killed again (figuratively) by mom because I seemed outwardly calm about the fact that there were probably more than two dozen people after me because of a chip in my arm.

What can you do? Life went on.

For a company with the cream of the crop mercenaries/assassins/spies, ShinRa sure didn't do anything to me. Or Lily, for that fact. I hadn't seen Bernie in weeks, much less talked to him, and he was supposedly the one who needed to squeeze info out of me. Not that I'm complaining. I _like_ having a whole lot of nothing being the focus of my life. It's easier to do nothing than be on the run constantly. I _still_ hadn't recovered entirely from the 'greenhouse incident.' I did not relish the feeling of having my lungs fluttering like dry coffee filters, and I should hope not to experience it again. Lily tried keeping me in the house.

It failed. Miserably.

I wasn't some sort of animal that you could just lock up, say 'stay,' and hope that I would follow your orders. I had passed the legal age a long time ago, and being treated like I was fourteen and below equaled a _not_ happy Chloe. Yes, it's not like I could bust out crazily amazing ninja moves like all of AVALANCHE (I had eventually learned about that, too; don't blame me, I'm a slow learner!), but I could defend myself. I think.

I mean, I broke Rodney's nose successfully in third grade when he stole my lunch box.

...Not that that would testify to my strength.

I had noticed that most of my mornings started with thoughts to justify my complete lack of activity. I blamed it on my shoulder. Damn shoulder. The sling was still very much in place, and Dr. Rui had cheerfully informed me over the phone that I'd need to keep it like that for an additional week after I had visited him for a checkup. He wanted to make sure that my shoulder bursus (anatomy for the win!) 'was completely healed' before I went on 'manhandling it again.' How do you _manhandle_ your own muscle? It's not like I can rip it out and throw it about.

Alright, bad images. I am now stopping.

I had resigned myself to sitting behind the counter of Seventh Heaven, in the farthest corner possible, drying glasses. Yep. Drying glasses. It was a one-handed job—or it could be—so it technically meant I wasn't using my right shoulder. It was the only way I could pass time. I polished those glasses until they gleamed. I wanted them to _blind_ people. I was doing a fine job of blinding myself.

"You've been washing the same glass for fifteen minutes, Chloe."

I blinked at the person who had spoken to me. "Hey there, Marlene."

The little girl stared up at me and then hauled herself onto the counter, sitting opposite me. "Are you thinking?"

"Too much, I'm afraid." I had the most enlightening conversations in Seventh Heaven. Almost every time someone sat down to talk to me, it was about my thinking or how I had a bad expression on my face. One of the faults of being transparent as a piece of tracing paper. "One day, I'm going to think too much and then my head'll explode and I'll die a melodramatic death."

Marlene laughed a bit at that. I sighed and set down the glass. We stared at each other for a few uneventful moments before inspiration clonked me over the head.

"So, what do you think we should do to kill time?"

The girl thought for a while before her eyes brightened with an idea. "Oh, I know! I got this new board game last weekend—would you like to try it out? It looks good..."

And, because I had nothing else to do and it was Sunday, the next hour passed by with me and Marlene decking out our best board-game moves. The entire event was actually quite refreshing. I hadn't really done anything thoughtless—okay, maybe I had—in the past few weeks, and playing a board game with Marlene just seemed to be the perfect cure for whatever I was suffering from. Yuffie attempted to give me advice at one point in the game, and it ended up with me losing in a very fail-filled manner. After that, she stuck about and watched for a few minutes before zipping out the door when she remembered that there was a new batch of materia being hauled in from some northernly province. Despite the fact that the board game itself was based off of a kids' show (Cora the Lost, or something...?), it was surprisingly difficult to win.

Over the short hour, we cycled through a fair amount of company. First it had been Yuffie, who had made a hasty albeit unwilling departure ("But what if you lose again and I'm not here?"); then it was Denzel, who had sat beside Marlene with a bowl of ice cream, but had decided that his own electronic gadgets upstairs were more riveting than two females playing a dice game. Second to last, it had been Tifa and Cloud, who had made a quiet exit and were out at the moment, apparently to have some precious alone time. I hoped that their lunch would go by undisturbed. Last but definitely not least was Vincent, who had only stayed in the room for an approximate time of five seconds before giving a short nod (goodbye?) and striding out the door. I assumed he had gone for a walk.

In other words, the last half hour of gameplay was generally peaceful and punctuated by long periods of senseless laughter than only occur when you're sitting with friends or kids. In this case, I questioned myself it if was both. When the last round had been played and I had lost, we began to pack away the game and put it back in the cupboard which Marlene had taken it from. Shortly afterwards, because I couldn't bear the silence, I asked Marlene if she wanted a snack. We had both taken lunch relatively early, and it hadn't been all that filling—we had had sandwiches, because that was the only thing I could make with one hand without injuring anyone. When she had replied yes, there commenced a great battle for the domination of the ice cream. This time, I won happily, and spooned three small balls of 'Icy Blueberry' into Marlene's waiting bowl. To top it off, because I was feeling generous today, I stuck a cookie at the top of the ice-cream-mound.

So she sat again on one of the counter stools and I took my seat behind the counter again, and she started to enjoy her treat. I wasn't in the mood for ice cream, which was a little strange, considering that my sugar intake could probably power an entire plain filled with light bulbs. Instead, I just nibbled on some Costa de Sol chocolate that I had found lying about in the refrigerator. No use in letting the poor thing go unaccompanied, right? Especially when there was fresh milk to go along with it.

Marlene dipped her cookie into her slightly melted ice cream and bit down; she spoke after she swallowed. "Say, Chloe..."

I broke off a piece of chocolate and popped it in my mouth. "Yep?"

"What's your hometown like?"

Where exactly did this come from? I sipped my milk and let the cool liquid travel down my gullet before I answered. I rubbed my fingers together to get rid of any chocolate shavings that might've stuck there accidentally and tried to reply earnestly. "I haven't been there in a while, Marlene, so I don't think my account would be too accurate."

"You're from Nibelheim, right?"

I nodded.

She spooned some ice cream into her mouth. "Cloud and Tifa are from Nibelheim, too."

Cloud I knew about, what with all the fuss that had happened, but it hadn't been much of a discussion topic between me and Tifa. I had guessed she came from Nibelheim as well, since she accepted the rare run-on speeches I made with familiarity, and often pitched in when I slipped up and allowed myself to reminisce. "To tell you the truth, I might have seen Tifa around many times but completely forgotten it. Knowing me, it's something like that..."

Marlene smiled a bit. "It's okay to be forgetful. Everyone's forgetful sometimes."

I laughed. "Yeah, but I was a kid who had cotton candy for a head and brains," I said, spinning little circles on the side of my temples with my good hand's fingers to show her that I was crazy.

She set down her bowl and looked me in the eyes, interested. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean that moms wouldn't want me to play with the others," I admitted, still grinning.

Now I had caught her attention. "...What kind of things did you do?"

My grin turned impish. "Ooh, all sorts of stuff. I remember once that our neighbor had bought a pair of chocobos for his daughter—he'd even built a little stall for them. I didn't like the girl. I thought she was really snobbish, so I jumped the fence and pulled the latch on the chocobos' stall and they got loose." Marlene's eyes widened. "I got on one of them—suppose I thought I'd run away—but they just went into the bakery next door instead to eat the apple pies and bread. I was grounded for a month."

"That must've sucked."

"Well-put," I complimented, breaking off another piece of chocolate and eating it. "But that was a while ago. I doubt that things are the same."

"I want to see Nibelheim one day," Marlene commented, tilting her head. "It holds so many memories for everyone here... I suppose it'd be good to go, wouldn't it?"

My eyebrows went up a little at her insightful observation, but soon my facial features relaxed. I smiled at her again, this time not all that childishly; bringing my good hand up, I patted her head, even with the knowledge that she hated it when people did that to her. But, there wasn't much I could do at the moment. I nodded belatedly.

"Yeah. It'd be good."

–

Due to that, most of the day afterwards was spent with random thoughts about home and air laden with the scents of wet greenery and flowers and baked goods. The house was mostly empty, so I had time to myself. Lily had disappeared off to who knows where (and then she tells me that _I _should stay inside) and mom had left a note for me that went something like this: "_Off for shopping. Be back later. Food's in the oven_." How much shopping did we have to do? If she wanted to some time to herself, she could just say so and get to the point instead of covering it up badly. If she _really_ was out shopping, then she'd better not get any more fruit. The house was practically stuffed with fruit.

I sat at the window, one of my favorite childhood books open on my lap. It was called "_The Mystery of Round Island_" and I honestly don't know how many times it's been read. The writing was not as good as it could be, but I adored it all the same due to its plotline. As an ill tempered and bad-mannered eleven year old, the characters were my best friends (excluding Tooby, my stuffed rabbit). The book's cover was soft from handling, and even the hard cover could bend if you squished it with enough force. Page ninety-three was soiled with coffee that was too old for me to remember, and page two-hundred and sixty was missing a corner thanks to the ministrations of a playful chocobo that decided my ink and paper was tastier than its feed.

Perhaps I loved it because I often wished I could be in the place of one of the characters that landed on the tiny Round Island and discovered adventure beyond their wildest dreams. Maybe because, once upon a time, I believed something like that could actually become reality. It might even have been due to the images and scents lodged between its pages and lurking in its sentences. Who knew, really?

Dante's nose somehow found its way underneath my left palm, tickling me with its cold moisture and whiskers. I gave a short burst of laughter and looked down at the black dog, scratching him behind the ears, enjoying the feel of silky fur against my scarred hand. Just as I was about to put my book away, the doorbell ringing disturbed the veil of silence draped about the living room. Was it mom? I had expected her later. Well, if it was Lily it'd make sense (even though I didn't want her back). Sighing, I lifted myself up, careful not to disturb my sling, and walked to the front door. I opened it without hesitation—a stupid move on my part, as per usual—and felt my back go rigid at the person standing in the doorway. Immediately, I started to shut the door, but he lodged himself between the door and the frame. I definitely couldn't wrestle him away with only one hand at my disposal; dread and embarrassment pricked at me.

"Chloe," Bernie said almost apologetically, his brown eyes doing a sweep of me. I could only imagine what I looked like at the moment in my baggy tee and shorts, which were hidden by the shirt itself; my hair was almost loose despite my mania of keeping it tightly up, and to top it all off, I was barefoot as well. To put it lightly, I had changed into my 'house-clothes,' and I hadn't counted on visitors. The door creaked as it opened a little further, forcing me back a tad. "Please."

My voice was bland. "...What do you want?"

"Just to talk," he answered quietly. "Unless, of course, you'd like to... um... freshen up first."

I damned the blush that dyed me red and gritted my teeth. Conceding to my defeat, I held the door open. "Feh. Be my guest. Dante's inside, so don't blame me if you get your ass bitten off."

He looked a little guarded as he stepped inside, and jerked away from the door when I slammed it shut sharply. At least he wasn't under any illusions that he was welcome here. Although, if I were him, I'd wonder why a person's attitude towards me would change so suddenly. He seemed distracted, so I decided to remedy that.

"Would you like anything?" I asked, purely out of the goodness of my heart. We needed to get rid of the fruit, anyway.

"I... I'm fine. Thanks." Probably thought I was going to poison him or something. Well, knowing me, it was a pretty sensible outcome. "I haven't seen you in a while, so... I just thought I'd stop by."

"Didn't you want to talk?"

Bernie blinked, pink rising to his cheeks. "And that, too." What was with the entire 'flustered-uncomfortable' act? I had braced myself for teasing. Lots of it. He sat himself down on the sofa and quickly got up again when his action was met by a growl from Dante. He shot a dark look towards the offending canine and then turned back to me. "You've been avoiding me for some time now."

"...You only just noticed?" This seemed to hit a little closer to the quick than I had intended: his clenched his fists, face creasing. I couldn't hold back from sighing again, marveling at how a playboy like him could possibly be annoyed by that one comment. "You _can_ sit, you know. Dante won't do anything if I'm here to stop him." Dante took the hint and came to stand beside me while Bernie seated himself once more.

"So, what happened?" Bernie asked, scooting himself to the edge of the couch and looking up at me. "Why the sudden reprogramming of tactics?"

Something awkward squirmed inside of me, making me squirm too. Should I tell him? That, of course, would destroy any leverage that I had over him if bad came to worse and I had nothing else to bargain with. One half of my brain was screaming at me for thinking this way, and the other was terrifyingly calm. "I haven't been feeling well, lately." Oh, bra_vo_, Chloe! You get an award for the being the least original person on the Planet! I crushed the urge to spill everything and instead took a small step backward. How in the hell was I going to wiggle out of this one?

Bernie's brow furrowed. "Why? Are you sick?"

Maybe if I covered my face with my hands and screamed bloody murder he'd disappear. Then again, he might actually think I'm a psycho and call the men in the white suits. I was determined not to chicken out. "With the arm, and everything..." I trailed off helplessly. "You know."

"Actually, I don't," he said, reaching out, "so why don't you tell me?"

Before I could react, he had taken a hold of my wrist and gently pulled me down. I plopped down beside him with a _puff_ as the couch dipped to accommodate my weight. I stared at his hand, and he, becoming aware of it, drew away quickly, letting me go.

"You looked like you were going to go somewhere," he explained, his tone miffed. Boy, he had no idea how much I wanted to be anywhere else but here. If someone had told me to go and hug a Behemoth, I would have done it to not have this conversation. Bernie gave a short huff of exasperation (was it?) and turned to face me. "I know you don't take me seriously—but I really was worried."

He could be, one: genuinely concerned, or, two: an excellent actor. Either way, it was making things very problematic for me. I fidgeted. "You don't have to be _worried_, for goodness' sake. It's just a busted shoulder, that's all."

"It's not just the shoulder, Chloe!" Now he sounded frustrated. "I'm aware that I'm not the best guy on the block—" here I snorted, and he gave me a depreciative look "—but that doesn't mean I don't have some kind of feelings."

Oh, really? I'd like to see you 'fess up about Tyr and the rest of that shady stuff you've been doing! How about the entire 'befriend her, seduce her to get info' thing? Think that'll blow over quickly, huh? I wanted to say something like that, but I didn't, instead settling for just shutting my eyes and letting out another soft scoff. What was happening at the moment was probably just another way to get closer to me—or an attempt to.

He gave a growl of what I supposed was annoyance and then forced me to open my eyes by cupping both sides of my neck, directing my face to look at him. I was startled at the contact, which he _knew_ I wasn't fond of! He leaned in, scowling. Brown bangs brushed my face. "Damn it, Chloe! What am I supposed to do to prove to you that I care?" he spat out from behind clenched teeth, too conflicted for my liking.

No, I commanded myself. I would _not_ let myself waver. I allowed him to pull me nearer, despite the slight unease I felt at his warm breath fanning over my face. Sure, it smelled like mint, but, as well as that being _beside the point, _this was way too intimate for comfort. "Maybe you could start by telling the truth," I said stonily. That was as close as he was going to get to a clean and straight out account of everything that I knew.

He tensed, and I wondered if he knew what I was alluding to. If he was smart enough, he'd get the message to back off. Then again, if he wasn't, he'd just have to find out what awaited him if he tried to continue with this information ploy.

"Chloe, I—"

And at that point, the keys clicked in the lock a room away and footsteps sounded. "Yo, Sprout! What's for dinner? I'm hungry!"

We stared at each other for a moment longer before his hands slid away and I stood and hollered into the entrance with true anger. "Ungrateful pig! Where's your hello?" I turned to Bernie, who looked up at me as if he didn't know who I was. "Use the kitchen door." I walked towards the front door without a second thought and gave a disinterested look to the figure standing there. "You can cook, can'tcha?"

"I supposed Connie had made something," my deplorable aunt said, pocketing her keys and shutting the door behind her.

"Mom hasn't been in here the whole day," I informed her, turning away and moving towards the kitchen. "We've got leftovers from yesterday."

"Couldn't you just whip up an omelet or something?"

"You're talking to an injured person."

"Who cooks better than me."

"Give yourself food poisoning so we can have another excuse to haul you off to the hospital," I grumbled, kicking open the way to the kitchen and feeling relieved when I saw no sign of Bernie anywhere. "Pay Dr. Hanai a visit. I'm sure he's missing you lots."

"It's very sweet of you to think of that, darlin', but my stomach wants food."

I felt a snarl forming on my face. "And why do _I, _the one with shoulder bursitis, have to be the one to cook for a perfectly healthy woman?"

"Because you make one mean omelet, and my sister's not here at the moment."

Muttering under my breath, I opened the cabinet and brought down a frying pan. If this added more days to my 'recovery time,' I was going to kill Lily, maniacal companies or no maniacal companies. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in a stupid sling. "I might as well clobber you over the head with the pan. Oh, would you look at that. It's non-sticking."

As you can see, I was not a happy bunny.

"Lovely," Lily remarked, moving to light a cigarette. I whirled about and pointed the frying pan in her direction, conjuring my most irritated expression.

"You smoke _one_ of those things, and I'll let you starve until mom gets back."

She seemed to think about it for a moment, and then put the pack and lighter down. "Seeing as you carry out your threats..."

You bet I do.

–

The next morning, turned out that mom had already gone out before I woke up. To do what? Just guess. She was looking for a job. I practically fell out of the bed when I heard that, but I didn't believe it at first because Lily told me. When I called mom and she told me herself that she was out to look for a job, I was convinced. And so I started worrying. My mom, although she could be considerate and definitely was caring, didn't do too well around technology in general. Computers were not her element, which was a little trying when we first moved to Edge. She hated wires and, subsequently, almost anything that was attached to them. The only reason she had gotten a cellphone was because she had gotten really lost in the first week that we were in Edge; it ended in me having to call the police to track her down. I was not willing to pass through another ordeal that involved sirens, blue and red or anything remotely suggesting that I'd have to get up at four in the morning.

So who could blame me? I was distracted.

I slipped into my clothes, had some breakfast, clipped on Dante's leash, and got ready for my morning walk. I planned to stop by Seventh Heaven to see if I could offer some help, even in my dilapidated state. And I repeat: with all of this on my mind, who could blame me? Apparently, Fate could, because things had gone on simply too long without something to stir events up and give us all high blood pressure.

Precisely because I was preoccupied with my thoughts, I really didn't see anyone waiting for me when I exited the house. Lily's home, being sandwiched between two significantly larger buildings (yes, even the grocery store was bigger. Sad, I know), had too much hiding space for its own good. The last thing I expected someone to do was to nab me when I was walking towards the fence, but nab me they did.

And boy, did it hurt. Being pulled along by your sling is extremely unpleasant when the limb that is slung up starts pinching at the slightest sign of discomfort. Things are even more unpleasant when you're grabbed from around the waist and dragged towards the corner of the house, where no one from the road can see you due to buildings on all sides. I kicked and bit and scratched, but there was a hand over my mouth which didn't allow me to loose the scream I wanted to deafen the person who was holding me with.

Dante was my voice: he barked and raged, and bit at the person behind me—when he was kicked aside and the hand moved from my mouth to lock me between an elbow and arm, I felt panic bubbling up in me. There was a flash of metal from over my shoulder, and suddenly I found a gun pointing itself at Dante. The panic boiled crazily and I struggled even more, disregarding my bad shoulder completely. My captor had made a mistake in letting his hand down, because he only had one limb to restrain me with. One sharp, firm bite to the pale appendage looped about my throat caused whoever it was to let go of me with a wordless curse.

I stumbled backwards, clumsily shielding Dante and forcing myself to face the person before me.

It was Tyr.

Surprise, surprise.

The area just beside his elbow on his right arm had a crescent of scarlet imprinted into it. I was proud of my handiwork.

"What the crap do you think you're doing?" I hissed, hoarse from the pressure. Dante's every exhalation was decorated by a growl, long and low.

"Doing what should have been done ages ago," he shot back, scaring me with his calm voice. "You've got something we need, and I'm here to get it."

"If you're talking about that worthless piece of shit you people put into my arm, then _yes_, I've got it," I retorted venomously, my anger rising. "But you as sure as hell are not getting it, bucko."

He leveled a sleek gun at me, its silver barrel glistening; he smirked. "What makes you say that?"

Good point, I almost said. "The only way you're having it is over my dead body." Dante barked again at the sight of the weapon, and came to stand by my side; I could feel the rise and fall of his chest against my leg.

"That was my preferred course of action."

I just keep making things better for myself, don't I?! "You are going to need a hell of a lot more than one gun to stop me." And I felt that way.

His smirk only got wider. "Then let's put the bullets where they'll hurt most, shall we?"

The gun's aim fell away from me, going lower, diagonal. It took me a few seconds to understand where he was going to shoot, and that caused my devastating lateness.

Those seconds cost me dearly.


	19. The Boring Is Gone, Chloe

_**A/n:**_ Drama, some language, more of my crazy additions to Gaia and a gigantic (I MEAN IT) chapter coming your way! I'm thinking up an imaginary language. Yay! That's always fun. :D By the by, I have drawn a picture of Chloe and put a link up on my profile. Check it out if you're interested. :)

* * *

_**Chapter 19**_

There was no time to react.

It was all such a quick succession of movements that I couldn't process it well: first the finger pulled back, and then the world shattered with a thunderous crack; I flinched, stepped backwards, and titled my head to the left in time to see the bullet rip through Dante and fling him to the ground not far from me. He gave a strangled yelp that was soon drowned in the sounds of liquid-filled gurgling, making deep-seated disgust and horror rise into my mouth. Everything inside me flew into turmoil. I dropped beside Dante, not daring to touch him, nausea shaking my mind, disarraying anything in its path. There was nothing else around me—it was only me and what I saw before me. I didn't pay heed to the wetness creeping up the knees of my jeans.

I blindly noticed that there was a gaping wound in Dante's shoulder which was bleeding faster than I wanted it to; his black eyes were roving about wildly, searching, screaming the message of _why, why, why_? He hadn't understood. He had gotten hurt for my sake. He could possibly be—

My arm was pulled at, and I was hauled roughly to my shaky feet. At the sight of the milky white hand around my upper arm, my fury snapped and suddenly everything that I ever worked to keep inside spilled forth in a typhoon of inarticulate rage. I yanked myself from Tyr's grasp and faced him, blinded.

_"Bastard!"_ My voice was discordant with emotion, loud and throaty. I liked to think that Tyr was hurt when I buried my fist into his stomach. It worked just like it had in the old days, when the boys tried to pick on me simply because of my gender. His breath left him in a gasp and he staggered backwards, one hand over the afflicted area. It seemed that I had finally made his temper break; he darted forward despite being winded and seized my braid with merciless strength. There was only a moment for a heartbeat before he wrenched the thick rope of hair in his direction, towing me along as he went. My shriek reverberated uncomfortably around us, overriding the sound of something clattering to the ground: I was silenced by his hand over my mouth once more, my back flush against his chest when he restrained me again.

I was determined not to give up easily. If he was to overpower me, I would leave him with a sore reminder of how he had managed to put me down. I writhed left and right, my sling and burning muscle pain all but forgotten. It was difficult for me to get loose, but I maneuvered my leg, twisting it and then bringing it heedlessly down onto his foot. The grunt of pain I earned was well worth it. I tried to move forward again, but my damn braid was apparently too long for its own good: it was hooked by his hand for yet another time, and when he snapped it back I knew it was ending soon.

A palm between my shoulders forced me to kneel, making me scrape my shins and kneecaps on the concrete. I was only steps away from Dante. Terror electrified my heart and made my muscles clench; I couldn't see him breathing. His eyes were no longer open.

"You little bitch," Tyr hissed into my ear, coiling the braid around his palm. "I'll make sure you pay for this." Something sharp and cold slid under the skin of my throat; seconds later, a chilly sensation crept across my chest and face. Was I being doused in iced water? No, that made no sense... did it?

My eyes began to droop. The conscious part of my brain knew what this was, but fought it anyway.

There was only one image fixated in my mind. The image of what was in front of me. My dog—_my dog—_lying resignedly in a bed of fluid scarlet, ebony fur dark against the angry, angry red.

I was barely awake enough to hear what Tyr said next. "Your mongrel was ugly anyway." It was futile to try and stay awake.

Everything collapsed onto itself, leaving behind a cosmos of black.

–

Lily was barely awake when her niece took a quick breakfast in the kitchen. The only reason she had passed by the window was because she was in search of her coffee mug. She knew she had left it somewhere...maybe it was by the bathroom, or even outside of her bedroom. She nearly groaned in exasperation—wouldn't she ever learn to keep track of her stuff? The woman yawned as she walked down the hallway, and then spotted Chloe's cellphone lying on the top of the table by the doorway. Lily had enough experience with Chloe to know that she'd be pissed when she saw that she had left something as important as her mobile phone behind. Lily grabbed the gadget and swung the door open, hoping to catch Chloe before she left the area.

The sight that greeted her nearly made the cellphone drop from her nerveless fingers. Meters away, Chloe's beloved dog, the same one that had jumped out at her niece on one of the girl's few birthday parties from a box with a green ribbon, was bleeding onto the concrete at an alarming rate. Crying out, Lily closed the distance between her and the canine and let fear lodge itself into her airways. Not caring that her morning robe was getting soaked, Lily squatted beside the dog, patting his cheek. When he didn't respond, Lily shouted, "Chloe! _Chloe_!" but there was no answer.

Not hesitating, Lily flipped open the cellphone in her hand and found the vet's emergency number in Chloe's phonebook. Whilst she waited for anyone to respond, her mind working a mile a minute, she let her eyes wander about the scene. She spotted a square of metallic gray only a few steps away from Dante. She blinked, refusing to believe what she was seeing: sure, the model she had had was a _lot_ older, but it was the same basic design. Scrambling, Lily snatched the electronic contraption up and looked in the top left for the telltale stamp; it was embedded into the metal, betraying its manufacturer.

And then she had no more time for thought, because the operator answered the phone and she had to give the address.

But now she had an idea of where Chloe had gone—and who she was with. Lily pocketed custom-made mobile and continued to give instructions to the operator.

–

As far as I could recall, drug-induced sleeps were supposed to be dreamless. When I had my appendix out at twelve due to acute appendicitis, I slept like a baby for two hours before waking up. I had no nightmares, no disturbances. The nurses said I was the worst patient they had ever treated, and one of them wished I'd have slept through my whole stay due to an incident that involved high-speed gurneys and long, long hospital hallways. I remember telling them that since I couldn't walk, I had to get around _somehow_, didn't I? They weren't amused. The last four days in the hospital were spent in less than quiet contemplation on an old bed with no buttons that had to be cranked up and down manually.

God, I hated the hospital jello. It tasted so artificial that it made me want to throw up. I hated jello in general, in fact. I had also despised the chicken noodle soup—primarily because it _wasn't_ chicken noodle soup, but three parts water and one part white, worm-like noodles. I didn't like to admit that either of these divine delicacies would have been immensely welcome at the moment.

I had awoken somewhere dark, with a terrifically massive headache that didn't even let me open my eyes properly. My hands and legs were bound together, at the wrists and ankles respectively. If I didn't have a migraine the size of the Planet pounding into my temples, I'd have laughed at it all. At first, my fragmented thoughts didn't make sense. I couldn't remember simple things: what had happened, why I was feeling sick, why I was angry. Slowly, realization came up over me along with my memory. Sling all gone. Pain all here. My train of thought was decimated...

That walking ape had injected me with something. A tranquilizer, no doubt, and by the feeling of the headache, he had given me enough to knock out a herd of fiends. I tried not to groan because of the sensation that I was about to vomit and the thudding pain in my head. I made myself roll over. Huge mistake. The disturbance caused me to dry-heave about four times, and I only produced some clear, foul-smelling stomach acid. When I was done, I let my forehead press into the cool floor, closing my eyes in an attempt to be rid of the dizziness that was swirling about my head. The floor beneath me was smooth; was I inside some sort of metal container?

I braved opening my eyes again and let myself observe my prison. The dark didn't let me see much, but I was surrounded by crates; the walls were curved upwards—I was in a round room. When I settled down a little more and battled the buzzing out of my ears, I picked up on the sound of soft whirring. I was in a vehicle, then. But where was it going...? How was it _getting_ to wherever it was going?

My second question was answered when whatever it was dropped about ten feet downwards with a great whoosh, sweeping me up in another wave of nausea. So the vehicle was airborne. Just _great_. Too exhausted too move and still groggy from the tranquilizer, I let the movement of the aircraft move me back and forth. I have now been tied up (with serious, you-can't-get-out knots) and knocked out twice in my entire life. I never thought I'd get either when we moved to Edge. What happened to the nondescript weekends when first priority was scaring your neighbor's kids into tears?

I wondered how long it had been since my last meal. Breakfast, my hazy mind provided, and I gave an involuntary sound of disgust at the thought of anything edible. I didn't want to think about anything at the moment. Not about Lily, not about Seventh Heaven, ShinRa or AVALANCHE, Tyr, Bernie, the Turks, not about Jenova or Professor Hobohogo-what's-his-name, and most definitely not about Dante.

Things, for once, I thought blearily, were not okay.

As I fell asleep, I asked myself how much time was going to pass until they would be.

–

"He's a fighter," the vet confirmed, clipping a chart to her board neatly. The petite woman was clad in green scrubs; her brown hair was hidden from view by a cap. She had pulled down her mask to speak to Lily, who had nearly pulled out her own blonde hair while waiting in the hallway. The older woman was still in her morning robe and pajamas, the former of which was stained with her niece's dog's blood around the edges. "Luckily, no major arteries were hit. He lost a lot of blood, but if we keep him here for about a week or so, I think he'll be up and at 'em just like he was before." Dr. Harrigan scribbled something onto her chart and then continued, saying, "You should be grateful. Taking into account your dog's age, he's quite sturdy."

That was right. Dante was far from being a puppy; sometimes, the way he acted made one forget that had had lived longer than any normal dog should have. Then again, Drilan had specifically picked out a breed that would give his daughter a good ten years of companionship.

When she finally got home, she felt relieved to find out that her sister was not back from her job hunting. Once in a change of fresh clothes, Lily cleaned up the blood that stained the cement; the best she could do was wash it off. There was still a dark spot where the liquid had been, but she hoped it would fade away with time. After that finished, Lily sat in a chair to look over the ShinRa PDA that she had scooped up from the scene of the crime. In the new quiet of the house, she fiddled with the electronic tool that had once been familiar to her, and tried futilely to get the password out of the way. When she had been in ShinRa, she had simply put in her ID number in as a password—which wasn't smart, granted, but she didn't have anything on the PDA anyway. After waiting for fifteen minutes for it to get out of lock-down (she had already tried three times), Lily was struck by an unusual epiphany.

Who was to say that the PDA still didn't carry flaws? She remembered that whenever Millie's went into lock-down, all she had to do was to fiddle with some circuitry at the back of the PDA to get it to open. If she could recall the combination, what had rubbed with what—maybe she could open this damn thing and find out who owned it.

About an hour and many screwdrivers later, she coaxed a spark from the PDA; the gadget blinked, bleeped, and let her in. Barely suppressing a childish squeal of joy, Lily entered the menu before the keypad could lock and explored every inch of the silvery hunk of technology. She learned the owner's name by taking the PDA's production number and searching it on the ShinRa database through the PDA's exclusive ethernet connection: obviously, some person named Tyr owned it. His ID number was 2028 and at the moment he was still a trainee. There wasn't much to glean from the PDA itself, seeing as it was clearly not used often and not customized to the point of _not being touched_.

However, it could be said that Lily hit gold when she opened up the free GPS system that came along with ShinRa's little fiddly-doo (and she wondered why she sometimes regretted quitting...) and found a glaringly crimson marker fixed over—wait for it—the Da Chao caves in Wutai. Upon seeing the triangular shape, Lily cussed herself into a near fit and resisted the sudden need she felt to wring this Tyr guy's neck. Not one to leave the last centimeter unexplored, Lily moused over the marker and felt a jolt of shock when her code (her top-secret, LIFE OR DEATH SITUATION code) stared up at her innocently from the "Special Notes" section of the marker. 781050: the number that would partially unlock the Jenova vault and disarm the security systems. How the ShinRa brat had gotten his hands on such information was not something to mull over right now.

Lily knew that she needed help. With fingers shaking from adrenaline, she changed the password by fudging the system again through making the feeders play touchy-feely with the circuit, and changed it to the number of her sister's old address in Nibelheim. She stuck the last two digits of the year she was born in onto the end. A crackable code, but a code nonetheless.

All that remained was to go follow through the last step.

Reaching over, Lily grabbed the home phone from its stand, and, relying on her photographic memory along with entire minutes of Chloe murmuring a series of digits so said series of digits wouldn't be forgotten, dialed the number for the bar called Seventh Heaven.

–

When I woke up again, my mouth couldn't produce any saliva. This effectively enhanced any sick feeling I was having by a hundred percent. Swallowing felt like there was gravel traveling down my gullet. A lovely wake up call, no? I chalked the dryness up to either dehydration or subconscious fear. I felt compelled to go with the first one. My hands and feet were sore from being in one position too long; now that I was mostly free of the aftereffects of the tranquilizer, I began to struggle again, even though I knew I needed about a million times the strength I had now to get loose, I wouldn't accept defeat. I managed, somehow, through a mixture of leaning against the crates and crawling in ways I hadn't revisited since my infant years, to stand up. I didn't get too far, seeing as my ankles were bound together, but I did cause a racket when I lost balance and went rolling down.

Could you say di_zzy_? The cargo room (because that's what I thought it was) spun about for a good dozen times before a previously invisible door opened in the far right of the room. I expected light to wash into my temporary cell, but I was only greeted by cool night air and the one person I have ever seriously contemplated killing. Despite the fact that my stomach was emptier than a pit and my mouth felt like I had lined it with sand-paper, I gave him a decent scowl. My expression was funny to the punk, so he laughed.

"Did you enjoy your stay, Ms. Browne?"

"You've got a shitty decorator," I snarled, turning over so I was on my belly. My bad shoulder pulled.

"The bed didn't please you, then?"

I snorted, wanting to spit in his face."If you've got a kidnapper fetish and a thing for steel, it's paradise!"

In three long strides, he reached me and pulled me up by the arms. That was going to leave a bruise. If I ever saw Dr. Rui again, he'd have a conniption when he learned that my sling had been removed. When my feet didn't comply, he dragged me to the exit. I still didn't know in what I had been carried. "Didn't sleep much, I see."

"You and your sleep can rot in hell!" I yelled into his ear, not pleased when he didn't flinch. "Where are you taking me?!"

"Shouting won't do," Tyr said coolly, as if it were the most normal thing to be doing this. A flick of silver flashed in his palm, and my heart rate skyrocketed. He bent and with a clean-cut motion, severed the ropes holding my ankles together. My feet splayed apart, tired and limp, but he didn't let me fall.

"Pimp," I growled under my breath.

"Shut up." He took us down a ramp and I deemed it correct to answer when we reached the ground.

My voice raised in reply. "Who're you to tell me to shut up, you—?!"

I swore that I would bite him without restraints if he covered my mouth again, and that's exactly what I did. Another tally mark of things I had done for a second time: I had bitten him twice in the span of one day. Logically, that didn't please him. He tore away his limb, his breath quickly sliding out from between his teeth in pain. When I tried to break his grip, he wheeled on me, making me stop cold with the look he had plastered on his face. "One more," he warned, raising his palm, "_one more_, and I'll gag you." His good eye flashed with deadly, predatory promise. "And then no one will be able to hear you."

That's about the moment that I started to feel the fear I had bottled up. It clenched its way through me, beginning from my head and dripping down to my toes, making my hands go clammier than they already were.

From there, I let him take me to wherever he was planning on going. I took notice of the wide sky and the countless stars painted in sparkling arcs across the dark blue above me. We weren't in Edge, that was for sure. You'd be lucky if you could see some sort of star in a city like Edge.

I was stuffed into the backseat of a car and made to lie down across the three narrow seats. I put my head against the armrest on the door of the car and let myself ponder where I was. The familiar buzz of a city surrounded the car when Tyr drove into some sort of a town. I didn't want to lift myself up to see where we were (for all I knew, he had some sort of freaky third eye on the back of his head), but I got sufficient information from just watching the store labels as we drove past them. Most of them were in the Common Tongue, the language used all around Gaia, but some of them were written in pictographs that were unmistakable and had become a hell of a lot more unmistakable after I met Yuffie.

I couldn't read Wutaian, and the first time Yuffie had cursed in front of me in it I had thought something was wrong with her. The point was, it was quite bleeding obvious where Tyr had taken me. I was now in Wutai for the first time in my life (yay, a first!), though I would have much preferred my visit would have come under different circumstances. Most of those circumstances fell under the category of vacation. Ah, I remember vacation...

Due to my musing, I hadn't noticed that we had come to a stop. Therefore, I nearly cracked my head on the ground when the door was opened without any sign to say it would beforehand. All I could see was Tyr's bemused face as I lay halfway out of the car, the lights of some building blaring from behind him and nearly blacking out all his features. He gave what sounded like an exasperated sigh (he shouldn't have been the one to sigh in a situation like this!) and set me on my feet, only to have me fall to my knees. Even when I regained my strength, my little devil thought evilly, I was going to let him tow me about. No use in relieving the idiot of some strain.

"Get up."

"What if I don't want to?" My ability to sneer had miraculously been restored.

His eye narrowed. "You don't want to know what, woman. Now _get up_."

Mouth, let me introduce you to Brain. Brain will give you lessons in saying the correct things. Lesson one: do not insult, make fun of, or provoke homicidal maniacs. Too late for that one.

With effort, I stood and then stiffened in surprise when the rope around my wrists fell away as well. My surprise and senseless joy faded away and were replaced by dread and stiffness when Tyr's hand snaked about my waist and pulled me close. What in the world was he... My question trailed off in my mind as I felt something flat and oval press against my side. I glanced downwards to my right and barely saw the gleaming barrel of Tyr's beloved firearm glued against my body. And here I was thinking he was going to profess his undying love for me. Well, shucks.

"This is a local inn," he said to me as if I was stupid. "You're going to play along or I'll blow you sky high." The last portion of his sentence was emphasized by a more forceful poke with the gun.

"I get the point," I returned angrily, my irrational emotions powered by the fact that I had death standing next to me. "You have the power to kill me whenever and however you want. _I get it. _But, you know," I plowed on, regardless of his glare, staring him right down, "your ends don't justify your means. You may have a reason—you may have the best fucking reason on the Planet for doing this—but I'll never forgive you for what you did to Dante." And if he's gone, I added mentally, I will skin you alive. I _meant _it.

"Your forgiveness doesn't mean anything to me," he growled, gaze stony.

"I know it doesn't."

Tyr gritted his teeth. "You have _no idea_ what I've been through. They should pay for what they've done."

Now this—this really set off my last trigger. "So I should have gone on a killing spree, should I? No, I should've run around with a gun and threatened everyone... Oh, wait, I've got it: I should have burned down a whole goddamned town for what happened!" My breath was coming short, and I was tearing at my own wounds now. "You're taking the easy way out, while I and God knows how many people out there are playing the idiots and actually trying to do something to face their problems." I wasn't making sense, but that was okay, because this entire thing didn't make any sense and I blurted the first thing that can to mind. Whatever his papers said, this guy was _not_ with ShinRa. He may work for the company, but he _was not with them. _I would stake my word, my honor, my whatever on it.

The glare he shot me was powerful enough to burn a hole straight through my head. I returned it, completely fed up with his attitude. Sure, he had the gun and the training and a whole lost of other things on his side, but when my mind sticks, there's not much anyone can do to shift it. He gave a low sound of irritation and yanked me along, making me gasp when he tugged on the bad arm. The sling was no longer there for support, and not having used it for three weeks left it a bit weak. He either didn't hear or ignored it (why did I have the strongest hunch it was the latter...?) and we continued to walk towards the 'local inn.' If he was taking me to some sort of shady place, weapon or no weapon, scary glare or no scary glare, I was getting the hell out of here.

All doubts that this was some sort of congregation spot for gangs was wiped from my mind when I saw the clean-cut front lawn and the picturesque, Wutaian entrance to the inn. A sign hanging over the porch next to a series of round red lanterns announced "Chen-Po's Lodging." It was the perfect picture of peace, what with the river rolling past mellowly below the inn and the curved roof and decorations. I would have no qualms about passing out on that porch. It sure looked clean and comfy enough.

The smell of food (boiling rice and fried meat, my trusty schnoz reported) drifted out from behind the sliding doors, and it took all I had not to start drooling. To heck with nausea! I was starving, and the feeling of a bottomless stomach had just pounced on me. HUNGER. I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Breakfast. Mentally, I whimpered. Why couldn't I have had a more substantial breakfast? Why didn't I listen to mom, for once in my miserable life?

I couldn't answer my questions because Tyr and I had passed the threshold of the inn before I could register what was going on. I hadn't predicted such an entrance, and though the gun wasn't visible to anyone who wasn't me, I sure _felt_ it. Unless you've ever had a firearm squooshed to your side (or forehead) before, I don't think my descriptions would really do anything to enlighten you as to how it feels that all it takes is one pull of a trigger and you'll be joining all the merry and not so merry souls in the Lifestream. I babble when I'm nervous. Sue me.

As if this 'jump out of your skin at any second' feeling wasn't bad enough, we were greeted by a loud exclamation of joy. And then, quite suddenly, Tyr was removed from my person (THANK YOU, GOD) to be suffocated in the embrace of a man who could very easily be a bear. I couldn't stop the apprehensive gulp that forced its way downwards. I noted, with a slight tone of giddiness, that Tyr had been forced to hide the gun under his jacket in its holster. You ain't shooting me any time soon, Sir Snooty!

"_Xen-pei*_! It's been so long since you have visited us!" Tyr still wasn't free of the rib breaking hug. My little devil was happy. Hoho. "Why didn't you write or phone—or anything? We've all missed you!"

"I didn't have the time," grumbled Tyr's muffled voice.

"Chen-Po! Let the boy go, you beast," said a woman from behind me, causing me to jump so high I could have very well blown straight through the roof. "You're going to choke him the way you're going." She was shorter with me, and her charcoal colored hair was tied back in a tight bun that reminded me of mom. A set of slanted, black eyes were set prettily into her round face. When it seemed that bear-guy hadn't heard her, she huffed; she wiped her hands on a stained apron around her small waist and walked forward, separating the two. Oh, well. So much for seeing Tyr die from lack of oxygen. She smiled up fondly at the grey-haired thing and stretched up a hand to pat his shoulder.

"Hello, dear. How've you been?"

Tyr coughed uncomfortably. Is this awkwardness I see? "Well. I've been well."

"That's good to hear," she said cheerily and patted his cheek next. "Do you need a room for the night? You know we won't charge anything."

"I do. It'd be good of you to lend me one."

Someone, _pinch me_. Clonk me over the head with the iron bat I hid in the second closet for Lily emergencies. Smash one of mom's good china cups against my skull. The person standing before me addressed me as a bitch hours ago and held a gun to my side. He shot my dog. He injected me with tranquilizer and let me sleep it off in the cargo hold of an aircraft. Who ordered the damned personality transplant?! I raved on and on in my head with angered horror as I watched him speak with the couple.

"And who's this, _xen-pei_?" The huge, broad man was abruptly looking down at me (_literally_), dark eyes interested. "Cute little thing, that's for sure."

The tiny lady came up behind and whacked him on the back of the head with what looked like a metal spoon ladle. "Don't be disrespectful, brute." She gave me a brilliant smile. "Welcome to our inn. I'm Su, and this is my husband, Chen-Po. Are you a friend of Tyr's?"

I could see the murderous look he was sending me over Su's shoulder, but I didn't pay it any attention. Instead, I gave an answering grin and stretched out my good hand for a shake. "Chloe's the name. Yes, in fact, I am. A good friend."

Su was joyful. "We were always worried that he wouldn't get a girlfriend—has a bit of an attitude, you know."

Oh, I know. Do I freaking know. "He can have a bit of a temper, but he can also be really nice when the moment strikes him."

Chen-Po turned to Tyr with an approving nod. "I find her suitable. Congratulations on your choice!"

"No one asked you to find her suitable!" Tyr exploded, face red from what I supposed to be embarrassment. Let him squirm a bit, I told myself. "She—it—_isn't my girlfriend_!"

"'It?' I'm hurt," I said, not changing my expression.

A silent staring contest ensued, which I won, damn him. My loathing wouldn't let me look away. He finally turned from what I hoped was my ultra-powered-super-duper glare and spoke to Su in quick, flowing Wutaian, making my jaw dropped. Anything else that I should learn about this guy before he throws me into another hangar? I snapped my mouth shut when Su faced me and pointed at me with her metal ladle.

"How does some food sound to you?"

"Like heaven," I blurted before I could stop myself. Su chuckled and ushered me into a cozy dining room. Said food was already prepared and piping hot. I kept myself slightly detached and quiet throughout the meal: Chen-Po and Tyr had gone somewhere on their own, so I was left with Su in the dining room, munching on my soft rice and balancing it out with the stir fry to my right. The dinner was excellent, to say the least—different from mom's cooking and definitely different from Tifa's. Tifa. Seventh Heaven. Dante. How were they doing? Had mom taken pills for her blood pressure yet? I'm sure she would when she learned I was gone (a.k.a. kidnapped).

I was not allowed to let my thoughts drift further because Su interrupted whatever idea I was mulling over by speaking. She had cleared the dishes from the table—wow, I had been sort of lost in musing, hadn't I?

"Would you like a change of clothes?"

I blinked, not understanding her question. And then I looked down. The huge stains of blood on my knees and my stained wife beater shirt had utterly slipped my mind. The reminder they represented made me berate myself violently. I had to find a way to escape him, if it were possible. If I did get away, I thought, how was I going to get back? Getting lost in Edge (the city I have been living in for _ten years_ now) was a piece of cake. How in the flaming cornstalks was I going to navigate my way successfully through _Wutai_, a place I had never been to?! The thought alone made panic stir in my stomach. Panic and food were not a good combo.

"Chloe?"

"Ah! Sorry, just a little distracted there." I rubbed the back of my neck self-consciously.

"Well, I'll give you the clothes anyway, and you can decide whether you want them or not." Su smiled again, and I wondered if she was like this all day. "We have plenty of spare clothes, I can tell you that. You won't believe the amount of people that actually forget them or leave them here! We have some of Lan's old clothing—I believe you're exactly her size. You should be. Wait here a moment."

So I did. Su pattered out of the room and returned minutes later with several rectangles of finely folded clothes. She placed them before me and leaned back, a satisfied expression on her face. "I think they'll do you nicely."

It was a standard Wutai outfit, and seemed to have withstood the perfect amount of wear: comfortable, but not threadbare. The top was a pearly-gray with a neat mandarin collar and a gentle flower pattern in darker hues than that of the shirt. The sleeves were rolled back, so, I guessed, they wouldn't get in the way of the wearer's hands. The bottom was a pair of pants that, compared with the clothes I had grown up with, looked like pantaloons. Nevertheless, they also seemed to be extremely accommodating for movement.

"Come, come! We're not going to find out if you fit into them by you staring. Try them on."

So I was taken to a small pantry in the corner of the dining room and left to change. Could you say awkward? The contraband had eyes, I tell you, _eyes_! Besides the fact that I had probably committed a health-code violation, never again was I going to change clothes in a room packed with cheese and bread and salami and who knows what else. The resulting image was apparently good, because Su clapped her well-shaped hands together in victory when I stepped forth from the pantry.

"Lovely! Not too tight, are they?"

"No, not at all," I replied dazedly, wondering why she was being so good to me when she barely knew me. _She keeps an inn, idiot,_ a voice in my head said, and I agreed with it belatedly. Why was I so darn sleepy? I had spent the entire day snoozing!

"You look tired, sweetie. Would you like to rest some? The room's prepared and all, so you can just go and sleep. It's quite late, too."

I retained some dignity and did not yawn. "I am...pretty tired...yeah. The room is...?"

Su gave a laugh at my response and then handed me my original clothes, bloodstained, grimed and all and guided me out of the room and pointed up the stairs. "Last room on the right. Make yourself at home. We'll wake you in the morning, so don't you worry about a thing."

Her awesomeness was going to give me a cavity. "Thank you. For everything, Mrs..."

"Call me Su. The missus title makes me feel old."

I smiled. "Okay, then. Su, Thank you for everything. I'll repay you someday."

"Why, you make it sound like this was forced! Anybody who comes in with Tyr is trusted," she said, patting my back kindheartedly. They are, are they? Then I guess he hasn't brought any of the Turks past this place. I made a mental note to punch the redhead (real hard) the next time I saw him. With my undamaged arm, of course. My thoughts are more random when I'm sleepy... "He's got a lot on his plate, that boy, but he's a good egg."

Sorry to burst your bubble, Su, but as far as eggs go, Tyr would be sulfur if he could be magically transformed into a gas. This time around, I really did yawn, and very widely, too. I was given another pat between the shoulder blades and then sent off to the foot of the stairs. I gave Su a last goodnight and yawned my way up the stairway and straight into the crisp, mint-scented folds of the futon that awaited me. The room was dimly lit, orange from the light the lanterns inside emitted. The window to the north, opposite you when you entered, was large and overlooked a good portion of the river. Tendrils of mountain breeze slipped through the window and cooled the room.

The view was the farthest thing from my mind now. I didn't bother changing. I had no pajamas, understandably, and the clothes I had started the day out with weren't exactly in good condition. So I kicked off my shoes and curled up into the futon gratefully, hoping to wake up to all of this being a dream. The surroundings were foreign: I couldn't hear the constant, overbearing buzz of cars constantly zooming past, like I could in Edge. For a single, twisted moment, my sleep-hazed mind thought I was back in Nibelheim.

My almost complete sink into somnolence was cut short when the end of my futon was towed rudely across the room and into the closet (well, it wasn't really a _closet_, per se) of the room to the left. There wasn't much of a difference. It was an empty, large part of the room with only some coat hangers dangling above my head. I squinted and nearly groaned in earnest defeat when I saw Tyr looming above me yet again. I'd had enough of it for a day. Give me some rest...!

"What the _hell_ are you wearing?"

I wasn't inclined to answer at first, but when it became obvious he wouldn't leave without some sort of information, I sighed jadedly and squeezed my eyes shut. "Su gave them to me, seeing as you tore up my other clothes somewhere between knocking me out and imprisoning me in a flying hunk of metal."

"Why _those_?"

My irritation level rose dangerously. "I have no freakin' idea. She gave them to me because they fit, and that's that. Why in the name of all that's good and holy do you care about the clothes that I wear? I thought your mind ran more along the tracks of chip, chip, chip and more _chip_!"

He growled, sounding more like Dante than I cared to compare. "Stupid woman. You'll regret being rude to me."

Something inside of me deflated and I finally cracked open an eye to stare at him. I'd had too much of the aforementioned enough."Short of raping me, I really don't see what you could do that would make me suffer." _That_ made him stop. "If you shoot me, it'll be others that'll suffer. Not me." And while you're at it, Mouth, tell him about your childhood, too, and what your favorite color is, and who you like, and what you enjoy doing on rainy days.

"Stupid woman," he reiterated, and slammed the door in my face. The only way I could see the room beyond was through the slits carved in the wood in front of me. Something clicked in place, and I realized he had locked me in. What kind of loser puts _locks_ on a closet door?! I doubt they came up and said, "Hey, you know, a girl called Chloe Browne's going to be coming by in a few days—put a lock up so we can keep her in here!" Crappity crap, _crap_. Now even if I did wake up in the dead of the night (though I doubted it), I wouldn't be able to get out unless I, one: broke down the door, or, two: found some amazing way to hypnotize Tyr into opening the closet and letting me out.

"I love you too," I said grumpily, rolling myself up in my futon. Wutai sure was colder than Edge in the summer. "What's Su going to do when she finds out you locked your 'girlfriend' in the closet?"

"Shut it," came the answer from behind the door.

"You're a yobbo."

"Quiet."

"Have a long, nightmare-filled night, _yobbo_."

I have no idea if he reacted to that or not, because at the moment my brain wouldn't take much more of this. Having nothing more to do (and harboring a weird feeling I'd need my energy), I, quite simply, turned on my side and, stubbornly ignoring my twinging shoulder, fell asleep.

–

**Your Imaginary Wutaian Dictionary  
**

**Xen-pei:** silver-head


	20. And Then There Were Two

_**A/n:**_ This is a long chapter (**_WITH SOME LANGUAGE_**) and a long author's note. So brace yourselves! I apologize for lack of updates. School has been eating away at me and my time, and I have so many ideas I feel like I'm going to explode. D: No matter, half-term break is here, so this is my sorry for the lack of updates.

Second thing: I've decided to post recommendations of good FFVII stories now and then (keep in mind, most include romance and original characters) when I come across them, seeing as they are so desperately difficult to find. Do note that these are my opinions, and that what I like you might not like. Just keep that in mind. Moving on, I've got three authors for you today...

_**OrisounAsh**. _She has written the beginning of a most lovely FFVII story called "Fields of Trees," and her character is someone that you definitely learn to like. Give it a read, you won't be disappointed. :3

_**R. R e e v e s**_. She has some of the most original characters I've ever seen, and she captures Sephiroth and the rest of the gang we all know and love in a way that I personally think is very convincing. Check her stories (that's plural) out. :)

_**Ki-Ri-Sable**._ Her fragmented style is quite evocative, and her character is arguably one of the most unique original characters that I've come across in fanfiction. I think Dirge of Cerberus fans will like the way she weaves Faelo into the story in her sequel of "The Maelstrom Degenerate"...

Now, onto the chapter!

* * *

**Your Imaginary Wutaian Dictionary**

**Jhian -** Older brother

**Qumn -** Love (rhymes with loon)

* * *

_**Chapter 20**_

The next time I get kidnapped (which, hopefully, will be never again or very, _very_ far off) do remind me not to fall asleep. I failed utterly and completely to bust my way out heroically, because the next time I opened my eyes, morning was seeping through the cracks of the closet's door and I was rested. My train of thought followed the path of _Oh, comfy, _and then _Where am I? _finished off with a whopping mental shriek of displeasure. I got up, cracked some bones, and then seriously thought about hollering my blonde head off to alert Su that I was locked in the closet. Then I decided that wouldn't be a good choice, since Tyr would pass me off as some sort of nutso and the entire experience would ultimately lead to another one of my unpleasant sedations or a further injury.

So, I did what any self-respecting, strong, enduring woman would do. I sat and sulked. I sulked and I sulked, waiting for my face to fall off or my ears to start turning green or just _something _to happen. In fact, I sulked until I was sure the closet was drenched in the most suffocating and insufferable aura that has ever inhabited the Planet. To add to the effect, I crossed my arms carefully. When the novelty of that gesture wore off, I began to become bored; I untied my hair and finger-combed it. By the time I was finished with it, my hair was silkier than I ever cared for it to be.

Even my phobias did nothing to break my boredom. Just to prove my point to my overactive brain (which has hallucinatory tendencies), I left my hair down in a stubborn attempt to ward of some of the remnants of that night in Nibelheim and looped my scrunchie around my wrist. After I had run through all the memories at my disposal—including the less than savory ones—I started getting a little prickly. At this point, my sulking couldn't be called sulking anymore. I wouldn't even know what to call it, but it was sure sullen enough.

Now that I've described the entirety of my slothfulness, I'm sure that you'll understand that I got quite a surprise when the door to the room banged open. If it weren't for Tyr falling out of his bed (assuming that's what the horrendous thump I heard was), the fact that I slammed my head not-so-gently into the wall would have been the loudest thing in the room. I stopped, hissed under my breath and rubbed at the spot where I had conked myself into the wall. Great agility I got there. Before I could start a tirade of curses, a voice resounded from beyond the door which made my own voice shrivel into non-existence.

"_Jhian, jhian*!_ Niu has missed you so much! Niu was wondering where you were—mama said you were at work but that meant that we couldn't see you—Niu's been to school, see, _jhian_? I picked out a bag and pencils and pens and I have a calculator with a little bear on it—and it's so cute—Niu loves the color and I have—"

The bubbly young girl's rant was cleanly interrupted by a more composed, smooth tone. "Get off, Niu. Leave him some space, dear."

Burning with curiosity, I scrambled to my knees and peeked out through the slits in the wood; my eyes widened at the scene before me. A little girl (she couldn't have been more than six) was bouncing up and down on Tyr's futon, but, more importantly, on Tyr himself. What shocked me wasn't the fact that he was letting a child trample all over him—no, what really surprised me was the resemblance in the two's faces. The girl had a ponytail of fine, black hair tied away from her round, flushed face. Her eyes were a shining blue, and her wide smile crinkled their edges. She shared the same sort of straight, severe nose that Tyr had, although hers was a smaller version of it. She laughed loudly, throwing her arms around Tyr's neck without hesitation and barreling into him. They fell onto the futon with a _poof, _and she continued laughing, uninhibited.

"She hasn't stopped speaking in third person, I see," came Tyr's muffled voice. People seemed to be smothering him lately.

"Perhaps with schooling it will be fixed..." My eyes swiveled to the lady that had spoken; the breath I was taking in was deflated when I saw what an imposing figure she cut. The lines of her shoulders were defined—she was not rigid, as someone would expect from a person with this stature. Instead, she looked almost gentle. The kind air about her was only enhanced by the silvery hair sweeping near her elbows; my gaze darted between Tyr and the woman. They had the same, steely gray eye color. She sighed, and the barely noticeable wrinkles of weariness creased her forehead. "...How have you been?"

Tyr hooked one reluctant arm around the little girl (I think my jaw hit the floor, by the way) and drew her close. "Better. Things are moving along."

The woman sighed again. "I hope you aren't doing anything questionable." So much for that, lady! "She wanted to see you very badly, and when Su told us that you had come in for the night..."

"I wanted to see you guys, too. Do you like school?"

I_ will _strangle him one day.

"Oh, very much! Niu's classmates are so kind!"

"Su mentioned you brought a young woman along with you..."

Yes, YES! Suddenly, I was very grateful for this person's presence. Would this be the correct time to fake an exaggerated yawn?

"She's not here at the moment—left early in the morning. She's got some family she said she wanted to see."

Why, the liar! For his information, the only family I've got is way over in another direction on the compass rose and yes, I would very much like to see them! If only I really had left. But that's not so easy, now is it? I can take on a wooden door—sure I can! I just don't want to scare the little girl...yeah, that's all. Then again, if he did want to 'introduce' me, what'd he say? "Yeah, she's sleeping in the closet because I didn't want her to run off in the middle of the night." That'd go over magnificently!

"That's a shame. I wanted to meet her... are you staying for long?" Easily put off, wasn't she? Investigate more, dangnabit!

"No. We're leaving after she returns."

Silence. And then, "Wouldn't you rather stay? I don't see why you have to go back to that place. It'd be so much easier if—"

"I've made my decisions, and I can't turn back now. Don't try and convince me otherwise. This is my path." Hey, whoa, wait! Who said it's your path if you're dragging along an unfortunate idiot with you?! What if your path ends in a cliff? I don't want to die just yet, thank you very much. I still have yet to give him the beating he deserves; sounds a bit vulgar, but that's the way it is. My patience wasn't designed to last such long periods of time, and I was afraid it was beginning to get just a tad frayed. Just a tad.

"You don't even want to go home?"

"I don't have the time."

"Niu wants you to stay!" whined Niu, tightening her hug around Tyr's neck without reservations. "I don't want to have to wait so many months before seeing you again. Why do you have to go?" And, just like that, at the drop of a hat, she started to cry. Generous amounts of tears streamed down her cherubic cheeks and dripped off her chin. The walking ape's mug twisted uncomfortably.

Bless her.

The tall lady moved across the room and scooped Niu into her arms, balancing the kid on her hip. Some muscles she had there, definitely. "We could have avoided this," she said softly, brushing Niu's bangs away from her face and wiping away the continuing rivers of tears. "Please think about it. You're only hurting us more in this way. They wouldn't want you to do this, _qumn*._"

"Go."

A flicker of hurt passed over the woman's face (insensitive dope), but it was stifled soon enough. "Why are you this way? Can't you see that we need you?" At this sentence, Niu's cries intensified. I was beginning to get an 'ants in the pants' feeling in the closet, which seemed to have shrunk all of a sudden. I could never stand it when children cried, which is why I didn't do much of the activity itself as a child or an adult (if I could be considered an adult). There was only one time that I remember crying for hours, but I like to say that it doesn't count.

It didn't seem that Tyr would respond. The tense atmosphere was shaken when Su's voice floated up the stairs and into the room. "Lan! The taxi driver says he won't wait for much longer!"

The woman in question stole a quick look to the door and then at Tyr. She blinked rapidly, as if keeping something at bay. "Don't do this," she whispered. Niu had buried her face into the crook of her neck, and was still sobbing, albeit quietly and with more restraint. "Please...don't push us away."

"Lan!"

The jerk opened his mouth. "You're being called."

And that, folks, is what did it. The woman turned on her heel, and without a backwards glance, walked out of the room, sliding the door shut behind her. There was more silence. I could hear Lan's footsteps as she made her way down the staircase. I sat back down on my futon, feeling slightly breathless. I was wearing that lady's clothes, apparently. Now, if I only knew why he had gotten so pissed about it, things would be much better. As an answer to my pleas for clarification, Niu yelled so loudly as they were moving away that even I, in my closet prison, heard it.

"I _don't want to_!" she wailed, so hoarsely and despairingly that I felt a lump lodge in my throat. "_Niu wants her brother_!" And she commenced to stretch the vowel 'a' into such long and horrible howls that I had the sudden urge to block the sorrowful sound from my ears with my blanket, my imaginary earplugs of air—anything. It faded away eventually and I was left with my stupid answers. Tyr had jumped down my throat for wearing his mother's clothes. Still not understandable, but strangely understandable anyway. I don't know how much longer I sat there before the door was opened with a click and a slide; I let my expression contort into an ugly glare when I made eye-contact with Tyr. His stony face bothered me, and the fact that it was half-covered with that foolish hair made me want to yank him down and give him a piece of my mind. A very big, prickly and nasty one.

"You," I said lowly and emphatically, "are an _asshole._"

* * *

To say she was uncomfortable was an understatement. Lily leaned against the railing of the airship, trying to ignore everything about her except the passing landscape below. It was the very picture of serenity, if you will; azure waters and fine, pearly sand stretched on for quite a while. Little striped umbrellas of blue and white dotted the beach in a methodical pattern. She could see people milling about—they were the size of ants. The same couldn't be said about those on board. They were anything but small or unnoticeable.

In fact, it was one of the reasons she had taken to sitting out on the deck instead of inside; the gazes of some of the people in there felt like they had the power to burn straight through her forehead. Sure, she knew that the news she had brought was not appreciated... Then again, why would it be? It was obvious from the neon-blue of the blond young man's eyes that he had been in quite close proximity with the Mako that ShinRa had been so fond of. The group that had congregated in the bridge could well be credited with saving the Planet from the destructive power of Jenova and the insanity she (it?) had instilled into one role-model SOLDIER. Walking up to them and admitting there was another piece of Jenova floating about hadn't been the pleasantest thing to do.

It was already hard enough to describe the vault and its intricacies, including the chip and the code.

Being the harbinger of such information made it near to impossible to sit with the rest in the bridge. Just standing in the same room with that man with the red eyes alone was difficult—he made her feel like an irresponsible teen again by simply giving her displeased glance that lasted three seconds. She knew she wasn't welcome. That much, at least, was clear. The dark-haired woman (Tifa, wasn't it?) had been the kindest out of all of them, and had the courtesy to not give her these tiny, unappreciative mini-glares. The one who had made her disfavor the most obvious was the short ninja girl with the uncannily watchful eyes and the pretty, round face (which was, for some reason, quite green). Apparently she was fairly worried about Chloe's situation, unknown as it was.

Hell, Lily hadn't even known that Chloe had been _that_ much of a friend. She always thought her niece's sarcastic, deterrent nature would serve to drive people off instead of befriend them. Again, Lily was proved wrong—and she hated it.

Seeing as they were still over Costa del Sol, she took a guess that it'd be a fair amount of time until they reached Wutai. But then again, she didn't know the skills of the person piloting this ship. Although he had earned points in her book from his good taste in cigarettes, that was quickly negated when they told him where they'd be going. Forget about Lily being potty-mouthed. Connie would faint from shock if she heard the way he spoke.

Her thoughts drifted back to her sister: she hadn't told Connie anything as of yet (something that was sure to cause a good rise in blood pressure when she returned), and instead had her babysitting Dante. Connie had been shocked and horrified when she learned that her daughter's beloved dog was at the clinic for animals and demanded to learn what was going on. Lily, of course, had fudged it yet again, saying she'd explain when she was back, and that all she needed was for her sister "not to get curious." The younger sister had wisely kept her mouth shut, having heard this type of excuse thousands of times when Lily had been employed at ShinRa (though there was never something like _this_ to keep secret) and had thankfully stayed put after Lily left.

Lily's gaze flickered to her wristwatch and then again at the surroundings. She gave a half-sigh.

This was going to be a long, long trip.

* * *

My less than respectful comment had bungled all my chances for semi-normal treatment. We left the inn shortly after breakfast. Su wished me good luck and Chen-Po unfortunately did not succeed in strangling Tyr when he hugged the idiot. The morning was chilly, and it progressively got chillier as we moved north in the car; I was denied a jacket and so I spent the trip in the backseat, feeling more and more like a piece of cooled meat. I started to seriously despise the smug bastard seated in front of me. He wouldn't even let me ride shotgun. Of course, he considered me nuts enough to grab the steering wheel and crash us both into oblivion. I was glad he took me as a serious threat.

When the car screeched to a stop, I nearly propelled myself into the back of the front seat as a result. My head banged against the back of the seat, causing my nose to give an unsavory crack. "God_dang_!" I lifted my hand and covered the offended article and I proceeded to let my face crease into a scowl. Tyr was out of the car before I could even blink. He opened the door, yanked me out ("YEOW!") and then shut the door again behind me with an inconsiderate bang. I stumbled: the terrain below my feet was rocky and uneven, and I hadn't expected the loose ground beneath my feet, so I stumbled stupendously.

"What in—!" I scrambled for a proper handhold and latched onto the open window of the car, managing to keep my balance by sheer luck. I squinted, looking around me; the air, it seemed, was too bright for my eyes and too thin for my lungs. "Why the _heck_ are we in the mountains?!" How had he even brought the car this far? How come we didn't roll into a ditch and die and become fossils for some anthropologist to find and ogle over?

"We walk from here," was my only answer, and it caused a good deal of sputtering and eye-widening on my part.

"Give me one good reason why I should continue!"

A vein on the side of his temple pulsed. I was getting him angry. "Because if you don't, I'll shoot so many holes into you that there won't be anything left, and I'll be able to take the chip in peace."

I hesitated and repositioned myself, trying to stand on the slanting ground. "...That isn't good enough!"

He snarled, gray eye livid with a very negative and mostly violent emotion known as fury. Best part? It was directed at me. Considering that this guy had a big weapon that could blow my face off and excellent aim, I wasn't doing the right thing. But seriously—give me a break! He was probably years younger than me, and my tolerance had completely faded by this point; it had died out utterly when I saw how he treated his family. Even though I didn't know his reasons (and again, they could be the best reasons on the Planet), he was still placed firmly under the bad side of my black book, and had made it into my mental hit list. Instead of shouting at me like I had pegged him up to do, he simply grabbed me by the arm (_again_) and hauled me away.

There wasn't much to say unless I wanted to be put in an early grave, so I zipped up and kept quiet. My legs began to protest after fifteen minutes of walking, but I didn't say anything about that either. I started counting the rocks on the mountain's face that we seemed to be walking to; there were more than sixty of them in my sight alone. Eventually the tiredness faded away into the background and all I could identify was the need for sleep. I forgot about my arm and my unbound hair and my aching soles. I was in the process of giving each rock a name (I was arguing over Victoria and Nicki) when we screeched to a halt. I nearly made a biting remark but held my tongue when Tyr leaned over, and, quite forcefully, kicked at a round rock that was bigger than Dante.

I was about to ask him why he was kicking a geological formation that could probably break his foot, but swallowed my words when the rock sunk into the ground and the mountainous wall of stone before us rumbled and then parted in the middle, revealing a (_ooh_) secret entrance. The cavern beyond was dark and the air in there was colder; I was already well on my way to becoming a Chloesicle, but it seemed that Tyr wouldn't have me any other way but _completely and utterly frozen. _The spacey Wutaian garb didn't help all that much either. Can you blame me for being reluctant when he made me walk into the cavern? For a moment I thought he was going to shut the door and make me wander about like some half-blind beast; there was a click behind me and a flashlight's little spot of illumination hovered over my shoulder and showed up brightly against the gloom.

There was nothing to see where the light hit, and I found that very daunting. Just how deep inside the mountain did this place go? My thoughts were overwhelmed by the sound of the rock sliding shut; I turned just in time to see the last bar of gray light from the outdoors disappear before my eyes. All of a sudden, everything seemed much bigger and stifling. I could have well fainted clean away when he yanked at my wrist and made me move forward. I followed hesitantly, resenting the feeling of being led.

I honestly don't know how long we meandered along the curving hallways and shuffled about the rocky paths. The entire world was black save for a tiny dot projected by the flashlight, which gave us just enough guidance so that we (actually, I) wouldn't trip over anything in our way. I could hear moisture dripping from the ceiling and occasionally when frigid drops of what I assumed was fresh spring water fell on my head, I tried to shake them out. By the tenth time this had happened, my scalp was numb from the chill. Damn idiot. Didn't let me have a jacket.

Having been preoccupied with keeping my head dry and my blood flow pumping, I didn't notice the drop coming up ahead until Tyr's hand squeezed my shoulder painfully and I was veered away from an abrupt edge. Heights had never been my thing, really, and I wasn't too fond of them, especially after falling from a window (yes, true, it was my fault, but it was still scary). I found that I was simply too cold and sleepy for a snappy rejoinder, so I just stared like a dope into the abyss that yawned beyond my feet. I noticed that the lighting had changed—it was easier to see now, but I had the impression that I was walking in a very dark dusk.

Leading away from where we were standing was a thin bridge constructed solely out of stone; fogged and badly scratched plastic material made a semi-circle over the bridge, enclosing it like a tube. A very uncomfortable looking, long, unsteady tube. Spikes of rock supported the bridge; they plunged down into the darkness below to the point where I couldn't see them. This didn't cause any more assurance. I could see the end of the bridge, but not much of what was on the other side. Quite other than that was the fact that this place was _huge_. The ceiling soared away from us and succeeded in making me feel like a very puny and insignificant ant. I didn't need the reminder. Stalactites hung over the entire expanse of the vast, craggy ceiling, their beginnings shrouded in gloom.

"Move," he said behind me.

I did, without any protest. We walked under the covered bridge; it was unnerving to have an open, possibly bottomless space all around you except beneath your feet. I went in front, so he could keep me in check. I didn't know what to expect on the other side, so when I saw a huge dome rising into my line of sight, I started to become uneasy. Walking across the entire bridge certainly took a good fifteen, if not twenty minutes; when we finally stopped, the tension had built to crazy levels inside my mind. Rising before me was a rectangular metal frame of what seemed to be dead electronics. The entire thing itself was wired with circuits upon circuits upon circuits: coils of colored wires twined down the sides and glints of copper flashed under the meager light when I looked at it from different angles. It was entirely like an empty, unfinished door frame.

Way behind the frame rose a smooth, shining dome of what seemed to be white metal. Its height, much like everything in the chamber, exceeded normal thought. The surface of the unbroken white seemed to be riddled with geometric lines of pale, detached gray that ran down from the top of the dome to create the outline of what could be a door. I assumed that this was the front part of the vault that Lily had spoken about with such dread. By now, all the warm air that I once had in my body was long gone: I was just a few steps away from shivering in my clothes and the cuticles of my fingernails were minimally blue. I was sure I was the only one left to feel sorry for myself. A hand (one that I resentfully noticed was warmer than my entire being) nudged at me from behind, none too softly.

"Step inside," Tyr growled at me. I blinked in confusion, and then realized with a jolt that there was a white circle painted (painted?) underneath the metal frame, big enough for me to stand in it without violating its boundaries. His hand rustled at his side; I knew he was reaching for that stupid gun of his. Feeling my jaw clench, I muttered out a mangled "alright" and stepped sluggishly into the circle. For a moment, nothing happened.

My eyes, which were used to the dark now, were startled and hurt when a harsh, green light was beamed out of the metal frame. I lifted my hands to cover my eyes, but not before I saw a message projected out onto the door of the vault.

"_Invasive scan initiating_," read the lime lettering. And invasive it was. The stripe of color moved up and down my body, starting from my head and then sweeping down to my feet; it did this twice before the frame beeped and the message in front of me changed. "_Signal recognized,_" now it said. The same signal announced itself with an hot burning in my right arm; I made a sound that was probably a hybrid between SHEESH and OW as I brought up my left palm, freezing as it was, to cover the suddenly boiling spot on my upper arm. What I saw stopped my movement. A square of brightly white luminescence was glowing from _under my skin_. The square itself was tinged red (no doubt because of the muscle over it), and it faded away after a moment or so. The image left me rooted to the ground. Only now did it seem that my brain grasped that there was something foreign in my body—an object that didn't belong there under any circumstance.

The light blinked and the message changed a last time.

"_Code input. Press zero after code's completion to submit._"

Now it gave instructions, too?!

I backed away from the metal frame as soon as I realized that there were numbers floating inside the space I had been standing in. Tyr stepped in front of me and lifted a hand. With decisive movements, he hit the seven on the hovering green keyboard, then the eight—two spaces were filled—then a one and a zero and then a five—one space left—!

I gripped his hand at the wrist with as much strength as I could muster, which, admittedly, was not much at the moment, but it did the trick. He faced me, face twisted into a hideous scowl.

"Let go of me."

"No," I responded, sounding more courageous than I felt. "Are you sure you want to do this? Think about what's _in there_." I paused, taking breath and licking my chapped and abused lips. "Hasn't Jenova caused enough trouble for decent people already?"

"You're not a—"

"I wasn't talking about me." My grip tightened. "_Think about it_."

His wrist snapped and my hand was thrown away. His fingers drifted over the zero once, twice, and the code was completed. The numbers went off with a small and rather unceremonious zip and everything was still just for a second. I was about to wring his neck and scream at him if he understood just the profundity of what he'd just done, but I was cut off by the sound of doors sliding open with a sigh. I turned and looked over my shoulder into the now open entrance of the vault, my mind tingling when the murk after the doors didn't yield anything. I was prepared to swing about and ready my assault again when another sound interrupted me. This time we both tensed and looked in the direction of the doors; the subtle slide of a solid object against the floor was an easily identifiable noise. The blood drained from my face as I went stiff when I registered what had happened.

Something in the vault had actually _moved_.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set in the horizon, and the sky was painted shades of pastel pink and fiery orange as a result; rays were fading and shadows were swallowing the land below. Yuffie had been struggling with her nausea all morning—bravely, Tifa had to admit—and now had refused to have a bite of dinner. Being airsick, the kunoichi decided, wholly sucked in every aspect. Very badly. She tried to keep her eyes averted from the landscape passing by, for the height itself just made her sick by looking at it. She wasn't like Cloud, who could keep his sickness under tight regulation: she didn't succeed in not letting her face scrunch up or not rushing on the way to the bathroom for those horrid moments of utter desperation.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to clear her lungs and somewhat alleviate the bitter taste on her tongue.

"Doing alright?" Tifa asked, giving her a concerned look.

Yuffie nodded. "Just fine." She lifted her head and ruffled her own hair, smoothing it out quickly. "Ci-i-d! When are we going to get there?"

The pilot looked up from a table strewn all over with maps with a formidable frown on his face and crunched down on his smoking cigarette further. "Ya ask me that _one_ more time and I'll throw yer sorry ass out of my ship in three fucking seconds flat."

A long, long time ago, everyone in AVALANCHE had grown a protective shield against such words, so now they just drizzled by and everyone, as a result, was unaffected. Yuffie hardly knew how Shera dealt with this on a daily basis. The couple had almost reached an agreement—Cid's valiant attempt to cut down on his profanity had crashed and burned in a very ugly manner. The aftermath had involved a lot of smoke, anger, and Earl Gray tea leaves. So instead of incensing the pilot even further, she turned away and sighed only just catching herself before looking out the window (which was very difficult, as the glass was everywhere around the bridge). She hadn't really expected to be paying a visit to home at this time of the year, and certainly not under these circumstances.

"Where's her aunt?" she asked out of the corner of her mouth, not really feeling like taking her hand away. All movements seemed hard today.

"Somewhere on the deck," Tifa answered.

"She didn't look too worried to me," Yuffie mumbled, a tinge of spite in her tone.

"Who knows, really?" The brunette watched a cloud the color of a peach zip by the window with her dark eyes which were deeper and more understanding than someone's ought to be. "I'm not sure that I want to know what we'll find if what Ms. Hayes says is true. I thought we had moved on from that...section."

The ship jerked slightly and Cid cursed in the background; Yuffie had blocked it out, though. The only thing her stomach could register was the tiny yet devastating upheaval of the ship underneath her. Yuffie stood quickly, all thoughts of worry and memories erased as she darted for the hallway and the refuge of the bathroom, throat burning.

She hoped Cloud hadn't gotten there first.

* * *

I was sure that for about five seconds, my breathing stopped. Only when I realized that my heart was skipping to the beat of a wild dance did I let out the breath I had been keeping in. Even Tyr had shut up. We dared not look at each other, lest we confirm one another's fears. I barely kept myself from squealing like a little girl when the darkness inside the vault shifted; I saw a long shape curling out, as if it were stretching to its full height. A glint caught my eye and kept it, until it came closer. The shape became bigger as it approached the entrance; it hesitated only for a blink before the first visible part moved into sight.

An unrealistically elongated hand crawled out of the doorway searchingly, gaining my attention and my panic. Below the plating on the top of the hand itself (it continued down towards the fingers, where it was segmented—joints, my hazed mind said) was black skin, unwrinkled and unblemished. The pads of the ebony fingers poked against the floor, softly touching it as if exploring and learning. Another, identical hand emerged. Things had settled into a quiet chaos; the silence was shattered when the hands unexpectedly latched down onto the ground with a great smash. From where I was standing, I could see claws digging into the cavern's floor. The claws screeched and scraped in protest when the limbs were used to drag something far more horrific than I had ever imagined out of the entrance.

I was trying to convince myself I had landed in some half-budget science fiction meshed with horror movie and I was the first of the ill-fated cast to die in a terrifyingly gruesome manner. Standing above us was a _thing _that looked like it was made up of blackness and metal alone. The oval, humanoid head sat on two bony shoulders; there were no recognizable features on the "face." An impersonal sheet of glimmering metal (iron?) stretched down over the countenance, sharpening into a 'v' shortly before where the mouth was supposed to be. After the head and the shoulders and the spider-like arms was an emaciated torso, a stump of black. There were no limbs below that. Another large piece of metal covered its abdomen, curving inwards to close up the legless end and tapering into a scary edge.

Taking a run for it seemed like an awfully good idea at that specific moment.

And then the unoccupied space on the visage split into two halves of bright orange-red, lined with what seemed to be needles too long and hurtful for comfort. The opening touched the sides of its face. A serpentine tongue slithered out from between the neatly cut mouth and flickered about in the air; the wet appendage stopped abruptly and drew back into the mouth, which slid shut and left no obvious sign that a mouth actually existed. The creature's head turned in our direction. I never thought that being glared at by something without any real eyes could make me feel like I wanted to find a hole to bury myself in. If large fiends were a nightmare... this was torment personified.

There was only time enough for a breath before it let go of its handhold on the floor and allowed itself to crash, belly-first, onto the ground. The huge hands gave one steady push, and suddenly it was racing towards us, sparks jumping from the metal drawn across the floor, mouth open again and gaping, dark tongue lashing. My brain shocked me into movement; I yelped and sidestepped further than I had ever sidestepped in my history of sidestepping, nearly succeeding in killing myself by throwing my balance to one side and dangerously close to the dark canyon only breached by a ridiculously long bridge. The creature went skidding past me, straight for the edge. For a second I thought it was going to fall, and I fervently hoped for it: but as soon as it went rocketing over the boundary, the hands snaked out swiftly and clamped down on the square edge. It seemed to be wrung inside out as it turned itself over on its hands, making a complete one hundred and eighty degree without obviously damaging its (non-existent) joints.

Now that it was rushing headlong toward me for a second time, my reflexes were not as ready. Luckily, a hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me away just before the teeth snapped at my thighs. The thing sped past us, stopping itself promptly before it went hurtling into the vault it had crawled out of. I heard Tyr's ragged breath in my ears, and felt unimaginable proportions of every emotion rising in me. I was frightened—to the point of numbness—and angry, so angry at him for what he'd done. _Happy now_? my mind was screaming, rattling against the restraints of reason. The creature righted itself shortly, and then seemed to take a deep inhalation. My heart stuttered when it started making choking sounds, wringing itself from side to side. The grip on my shoulder was becoming close to agonizing.

I felt my stomach lurch when I saw a barely visible pinprick of pressure travel closely below the creature's skin on its throat, and I realized too late that it would regurgitate something. The mouth opened once more and a spike of silver rested on its tongue. Tyr and I were rooted to our spots. The spike abruptly shivered and then collapsed into tiny needles; so fine that the only way to see them was when the lighting hit them correctly and glanced off their paper-thin sides. That barrage of needles trembled for only a second before the mouth closed, the creature leaned back, drew another breath, let the mouth open for a last time, and spat the needles towards us. The projectiles traveled at such an unreal velocity that I (both of us, I daresay) hardly had time to think.

Very fortunately for us, the needles were sprayed in a wide pattern, and most of them missed us; one clipped the side of my neck as it went past, but due to its smallness wedged itself very shallowly in my skin. _It hurt_. I reached up, my first reaction being to take it out; I grasped the needle and pulled outwards—I managed to remove it, but I gasped in pain and surprise when I felt something warm slide between my fingers and drip down my hand. I let the needle go quickly, watching in disgust as it fell softly to the floor. My index, middle and ring finger had been cut deeply across from just _touching_ the needle. But, arguably, my thumb had taken the brunt of the wound, seeing as it was bleeding profusely and hurting even more than that. I felt a steady trickle of heat coming from the left side of my neck. I did not want to know or think about what would happen should the needles hit us face on.

The creature, on the other hand, looked pleased. The ends of its slitted mouth had curved up slightly, and it was gnashing its teeth together. I took a risk and turned my head to the side, to see how Tyr was doing. He, in short, was not doing well. His face was riddled with minor cuts and one sliver of silver was sticking out of his shirt's collar. There was a very precise line of needles traveling up his left shin; four of them, piercing through the fabric and pinning it down. Little pools of red had already begun welling up beneath the wounds. He gasped in pain and almost made the same mistake that I did. To stop him from doing so, I slapped his hand away and used my large sleeve to cover my hand and pluck the needles out. As I engaged myself in this task, I didn't notice anything amiss. Adrenaline really does suck when it wears off.

"Get down!"

I was thrown to the right just as another cloud of deadly needles hissed past us. I hit the ground and was reminded of how stiff I was when my muscles yowled in protest. He rolled off the top of me and smacked the needle away from his shirt collar, sending it flying across the floor. He got up immediately, whereas I had to spare about half a minute to stand properly. _After this is over_ (if it did finish), _I __**really**__ need to get fit._ I huffed as I wrung my hand, sending droplets of crimson to color the ground. I grabbed the edge of my sleeve with my teeth and pulled outwards, receiving a perfectly satisfactory rip in response. Keeping my eyes on the thing—which now had simply fallen to rocking itself back and forth in some twisted sense of relaxation—I tied the fabric around my bleeding fingers, hoping to staunch the flow.

My attempt to say something to the panting Tyr was cut off by the sound of water; and not a rush, just water. Like water lapping on the shore of a lake. But where was it coming from? The sound echoed from all around us. The acoustics of this place didn't help at all, but we got our confirmation when a jet of pressurized water burst out of the entrance of the vault, knocking Tyr off his feet and sending him catapulting into me. The water itself was _cold cold cold_, and it soaked my head only due to my human shield, but Tyr was drenched from head to toe. The breath left me when Tyr landed on top of me for the second instance in record time, and I pushed him off, afraid that I'd suffocate.

Shortly after I had released myself, we both got the last and most terrible surprise that had been lying in wait for us. I blinked my eyes clear of excess water and then blinked again to make sure that what I was seeing wasn't some horrible practical joke. Standing beside the first monster was a _second one_, considerably taller than the first; this looked like more of a cross between a malformed chocobo and a snake to me. The body was covered in what might have been dark feathers and the neck was long, stretching well above the body and ending in a revoltingly humanoid face. The eyes were squeezed shut in the pale skin and the face itself could easily be mistaken for a mask. A very pasty, creepy mask, whose thin mouth was dripping with water and saliva. This one sported a scaly tail and feet, unlike its gangling companion; and then I noticed the wings kept to its sides. Screwed. That's what we were.

I turned to Tyr, my mind blown to pieces and all sanity thrown to the four winds. "Don't you have materia or anything?"

"I don't _carry_ that shit around with me!" he growled back.

"But you're—" And then I was shut up by a tremendous gust of wind. I squinted to see what had caused it and saw the bird-like one flapping its wings, which, by the way, were _much_ larger than what they appeared to be when pasted to its body. It crouched down, reminding me of an angry dog ready to pounce. The tail waved and the wings snapped open, making me raise my eyebrows. "Get out of the way!" I shouted unintentionally, and shoved him aside as another stream of water zoomed towards us. It fell against the floor (miss!), making curious shattering sounds. Last time I had checked, water was not a solid. No, water was not a solid, but the ice daggers hidden in the jet of water were. "Holy—!"

Tyr turned to take a look at the bridge and then faced back to me so quickly he could've gotten whiplash. His teeth were gnashed together in an ugly scowl. "We'd never make it if we tried to get across. That black one is too fast."

"Thank you, Mr. Sunshine!" I said angrily, grinding my heels against the floor. The creatures had not moved, but their gazes followed our tiny movements. My eyes darted everywhere, trying to find a way to escape, something that would divert them: something that would give us the chance to hightail it out of here. And then the epiphany struck me so roughly that I nearly staggered from the simplicity of it all. I put out my undamaged hand and waved it at him. "Get back." Tyr stared at me with a mixture of suspicion and confusion. "_Get. Back_." He obeyed, taking one step in the direction I told him to. I didn't take my eyes off of the creatures—they were still watching. This would have to be done fast. I sure as hell hoped that Tyr would obey instead of doubt me. "Further," I said.

"Any further and I'll fa—"

"Against the entrance. Stand in the entrance."

"Are you crazy?! That's going to corn—"

"Just shut the fuck up and _listen _to me."

His face tightened to the point of being painful, and he followed. I took a step back and continued to do so until we were shoulder-to-shoulder. Now we blocked the entrance of the bridge, small and claustrophobic as it was. This had better work, because if it didn't... "On my signal, move to the right," I murmured, quietly. I couldn't know if the creatures could understand what we were saying. There was a possibility they didn't, but I wasn't about to take that chance.

"What are you doing?" he asked in semi-horror as he watched me unravel my makeshift bandage and squeeze my hand in a fist too hard for any other reason than pain. The cut stung and the torn skin was ripped apart again, irritating the wound. Blood started to flow from the injury, trickling down my fingers in little rivulets. The amount of discomfort I caused was dizzying, but I was neither going to faint or die. I'd live.

"Do you have any better bait?" I gritted out from behind my teeth, feeling my hand overheat. "Remember the signal..."

I raised my damaged limb and waved it about, hoping it'd taunt them. I caught the attention of the scaled one faster; its squinty eyes trailed the movements of my hand almost hungrily, and when I rubbed my fingers together it began to back down in a fashion much like the one I had seen before. It was getting ready to run when its companion pushed it brutally. The black one let out a high pitched squeal, mouth twisting into what could be a disdainful expression. Birdy began to make chattering sounds, its face screwing up into a murderous expression. It nudged its head towards me.

They _could_ communicate.

Sparky seemed to think about the options for a short moment before both faced us. I took a breath, and then everything snapped into motion. They were coming at us, fast, and I had to keep my head clear. I forced my breathing to slow down and I counted the seconds.

_Three_.

I tensed, and Tyr stiffened beside me.

_Two._

My hands clenched; I dug my feet into the ground for purchase.

_One_.

"Now!"

Tyr and I sprung aside from the entrance so skillfully you'd think we had practiced it. The creatures hurtled past us at breakneck speed and the force they caused when they collided knocked us away from them. I opened my eyes, scrambling from the floor quickly as I took in the sight of the two ungainly monsters jammed in the entrance of the bridge, writhing about because the round tube couldn't accommodate both of their uneven shapes. Sparky moved backwards and the end of sharp metal closing up its torso burrowed into the spine of Birdy, making it squawk at an unbelievable volume. I was half in shock that it had actually _worked_, but all that faded away rather swiftly when Sparky lodged one of its all-powerful hands between its body and the plexiglass of the tube: it began to push itself out of the bad position it was in. The image of the hand was enough to make me run away at full speed, grabbing Tyr's hand as I went and I obliging him to follow. He looked fairly zonked out, and for once in my life I think I'd have been right to say "I told you so," complete with the neener-neener tone in my voice.

My brain had given my one last option. There was nowhere to run that would lead us outside and we obviously couldn't get through to the bridge—it was only a matter of time before Sparky and Birdy got free from their compromising position and came after us, furious. You could tell by the way that they acted that they didn't consider us intelligent. I guessed that the fact that they had been cramped into a tiny space and outsmarted by a puny mortal did more than just put them in a bad mood. I, for one, did not want to stick about and see what the repercussions of their tempers would be.

Tyr, however, somewhat came back to his senses and started protesting once he figured out what I was doing.

"YOU'VE GONE INSANE!"

Never had I heard him raise his voice like that. I dragged him along, resolute. Fate was a bitch, but I was a _bigger _bitch and I was sure that my number wasn't up yet. I wasn't about to let him spoil my only chance of seeing Dante, my family and everyone at Seventh Heaven again. I stubbornly yanked him the last few meters and then stepped into the darkness of the vault, feeling all warmth leave me at the chilling temperature inside. I looked over my shoulder: both Sparky and Birdy were just about free of their little prison. I turned to Tyr, patience finally exhausted.

"Do you want to live or not?!" I yelled at him, running around him and finding the manual door hidden behind the pneumatic ones; it was a big thing, with a huge valve in the center, much like the ones that they have in high-security banks. Currently it was open, hanging away to the right. This was our one-way ticket to waking up tomorrow alive. I could never push this shut on my own. When Tyr didn't seem convinced by what I had said, I stomped my foot (something I haven't done ever since I was twelve) and shouted at my full potential. "_Someone is definitely going to come for us!_" He was startled by my declaration. "Now _help me_, Goddammit, before we become some fucked up fish-food!"

That seemed to be enough. He moved next to me and we started pulling the door outwards, ready to shut it. I felt my shoulder screaming at me; the socket cracked and pain drilled into my side, but I ignored it. Despite the cold, perspiration built up on my forehead and started obscuring my eyes, but I shook it away and continued to push the door shut. The dim light from the cavern was becoming less and less. Tyr grunted with the effort, and we both heaved our weight forward to help it swing closed. The door was about an inch away from closing when a black hand came in up to the wrist through the crack, making me cry out in surprise. I didn't allow Tyr to stop.

"Keep going!"

Both of us felt the opposing pressure from the other side of the door. We pushed—closer—we pushed more—almost there!—the hand was caught in the closing door, and I heard the bone in the wrist crack. The creature gave an earsplitting screech and the hand snaked away. I threw myself entirely against the door, and it _shut_. There was a click and a hiss: the locks on both sides of the door had been activated. Something crashed against the door from outside: there were scrabbling sounds. They were trying to reach us. We both listened as the creatures argued in their own way behind our barrier, shrieking and calling. Again something smashed against door. No dent was made.

We were inside.

We were alive.

The question was, for how long?


	21. Limit

_**A/n:**_ Hi there, one and all! :) Your reviews are amazing and I thank you for them! One reason that I love reviews is that there are questions to be answered, and Janika posed a very important question—are the events in the previous chapter happening at the same time? Why, yes, they are! I worked out a timeline but failed to include it. _**SO PLEASE READ THIS, IT IS IMPORTANT**_. Well, if you want to understand what's going on, it is. xD As a side note, take a try at listening "Behold the Darkness" by Medwyn Goodall while reading the first part. It's an awesome piece. :3

**11:00 AM –** Chloe and Tyr set off from the inn. (He's a late-riser!)

**1:00 PM** – Lily's excerpt. The delay on her part will be explained in this chapter.

**3:00 PM –** Chloe and Tyr stop at the mountains and he drags her out to climb the way up.

== They continue their hazardous hike for about an hour.

**4:00 PM** – Tyr vents his frustrations onto a rock.

== They enter the cavern and it takes around an hour and a quarter to reach its center.

**5:15 PM** – Yuffie's nauseous excerpt occurs. Remember, sun sets much earlier in the autumn—don't know about where you live, but here at around five or six, it's completely dark. xD

== At this moment, the vault is opened.

**5:35 PM –** Chloe and Tyr play tag with Sparky and Birdy for about twenty minutes. Both uglies are lodged into the pipe.

== It takes about ten minutes for them to get free and the same amount of time for Chloe and Tyr to slam the door in their faces. Our reluctant heroine and our rather wussy villain are locked into the vault.

And this is where chapter twenty-one (a whopper) comes in! :D Thank you for reading. :]

–

_**Chapter 21**_

-

**5: 55 PM, Saturday.**

-

I can't say that locking us into the vault had been the best thing I ever thought of. Cut me some slack here, though! What would you do in my place? There were two options: careen off the cliff and fall to a rather messy death, or face two horrendous monsters head on knowing you wouldn't be able to survive. I think I'll pick freeze to death instead. Some say it's like falling asleep—and besides, if I _do_ freeze to death, it won't mar my features. Not that I'm good looking or anything, but I'd rather have someone stand over my body and actually realize that I was once a human being instead of disgusting them by simply being torn pieces of flesh. Dying in the stomach of some creepy experiment doesn't really sound appealing to me. I'd rather become a human ice cube, thank you very much.

"You're an idiot," Tyr growled under his breath beside me.

I raised my eyes to his, squinting in the dark. "The King hath spoken," I mumbled, rubbing my arms to stop myself from shivering. He only gave an incoherent snarl and turned away from me, pacing back and forth. I decided to ignore him as I let my gaze travel over the innards of the vault.

It definitely wasn't lacking, as far as sub-zero storage vaults go. The floor just a few yards beyond the door was almost coated in ice, and the entire ceiling was draped in curtains upon curtains of menacing icicles (which, thankfully were far too thick to be a hazard). Taking a step backwards, forwards—or in any direction, for that matter, was difficult to do without entering a slipping frenzy. I tried to take my mind off my chattering teeth by looking at the walls. I didn't know what I was searching for, but I found something to quench my interest soon enough.

I got up from where I was crouching and took a careful step forward. Well, it wasn't careful enough. I went skidding, and unsuccessfully tried to regain my balance. Since a particular entity of some sort apparently enjoys me making a fool of myself, the way I stopped was fairly painful and blinding; I crashed face-first into the chilly wall, my hands only barely halting the full force of the impact. When I tried to pull away, I was enlightened to the delightful fact that half of my lips were stuck to the wall. Isn't that just picture perfect?! In order not to rip apart those so very useful appendages that I used to articulate insults, I waited until the ice around my lips melted slightly, and then I pulled away, viciously spitting out the water droplets.

If I was right, all the ice in here had come from one place—and that was from Birdy. How a hulking cross between a reptile and a bird I would consider cute under any other circumstances produced water from its very own body, I would never know, and I did not want to know, either. I wiped fiercely at my mouth and then stopped abruptly when I saw what was in front of me, magnified by the eerily clear ice. I tried blinking, to see if I wasn't just hallucinating. My eyes darted upwards, downwards, to the side. It was everywhere! When it was established that I wasn't, in fact, hallucinating, I let out a huge breath, regardless of the fact that it left me very cold. I didn't budge from my spot, afraid that the image would fade away if I took my sight off of it.

"Hey, come here."

There was no response at first.

"I said to come here, doofus!"

At last he gave another angry sound and made his way towards me, not slipping once, damn him. If glares were truly heated, I would have been incinerated. "_What_?"

"Look at that." I pointed a hand in front of us. Tyr was unimpressed: I could tell by the dull look in his eye and the thin line his lips were pressed into.

"Has kissing the wall made you delirious? I can't see anything."

"Right _there_."

"I still can't see anything."

Frustrated, I grabbed his shoulders and placed him in front of me, temporarily forgetting that the floor was sliding heaven. We both went tumbling, but I still pointed upwards. My hand throbbed uncomfortably, but I ignored it. "Are you blind? I know it's dark, but... Anyway, behind the ice."

"What're—" And then he caught sight of it. He stilled and got up, leaving me to slide and stand on my own; he leaned in carefully, his visible eye narrowing. Then he stood back, face tight. "What the hell is this?" He looked sufficiently creeped out. I grabbed his hand to help myself up, and he barely noticed.

"Proof," I said, almost whispering, letting go of him and standing to the side. His shoulders twitched. "Proof that you can't contain something like this."

Stretching before us and to every corner of the vault were not designs, per se, but heavily outlined and deeply etched figures and shapes into the metal walls, glazed over with a sheet of ice. They could constitute as doodles, but I doubt something as harmless as doodling has ever given anyone a stomach-dropping feeling. This was indisputable evidence that the two creatures that had left this vault, were, indeed, intelligent. That piece of information alone somehow struck a chord inside of me. Humans have learned how to be superior—it's in their haughty and overbearing nature to do so. They achieve this 'superiority' through violence, manipulation and destruction; they lie and cheat, kill and argue. Most humans are pitted against others of their own kind when it comes to war.

When you think about it, even companions like dogs are, in a sense, overpowered. People teach them how to sit, shake, obey commands and be a 'good dog.' We have a set of rules and expect organisms that live with us to follow them. Some of us can see the big picture and make very accurate statements, whilst others are wholly absorbed in their tiny little world. Science tells us that living organisms have seven distinct characteristics; they carry out seven processes which are the criteria to be met when classifying something as living or non-living. According to newspaper clippings and scientists' hypotheses, the Geostigma was a virus. It was classified as non-living, due to the fact that it needed a host to replicate and, in some way, survive.

This was the farthest thing from mind when you watched people on the streets bleeding black between bandages or having the viscous substance dripping from their mouths, choking them. Was something as malevolent as the Geostigma truly mindless? Did it really have no sentience or purpose? Was it simply a disease that popped to the surface and began killing hundreds without really an explanation? Had it no _drive_? Its origins were traced back to the one and only Calamity, Jenova, and the unlucky SOLDIER, Sephiroth. _An infection of Jenova's cells_, the doctors informed us. And when you asked them what to do, there was only silence and shuffling in response. There had been rumors, you know: about whether it was contagious or not. My mom had nearly gone out of her head with worry.

And now I was staring at the hard evidence that all my questions had been pleading for. Jenova was not some imbecilic, senseless murderer—you could see it in the way the carvings had been scratched into the wall. No, this was a calculating, sharp mind with absolutely no remorse within it. She knew very well what had happened and what was happening; her actions hadn't been aimless or sloppy, but weighed and measured. There were two of her spawn out there, and my guess was that she already pinpointed her next form of attack. I felt my heart contract painfully as I stared at the drawings, tracing their shapes over and over.

The simple stick figures and boxes had my mind in a state of chaos. This mountain of drawing upon drawing was _everywhere_; they depicted people and buildings—there were vague pictures of objects scattered around randomly. Eyeglasses and clothes, pulleys and levers, houses, roads, boxes, geometric patterns: perfect circles and fences, hexagons and squares. To the side was a long rectangle, filled from the top till the bottom with meticulously wrought letters with such little space between then that the alphabet could have been repeated a thousand times over.

These designs following my every move—I was even stepping on some of them—made me feel uncomfortable, watched. I forgot about the freeze and the gloom and the tense mask on the Turk's face next to me.

We were up against a ruthless killer, and we were standing in her _modus operandi_.

–

**7:07 PM**

–

It had been a while since she had been in Wutai. Everything seemed bigger, brighter and more modern than a few years ago. It'd been over an hour and a half since the sun had gone down—from above, the city was a sprawling monster of multi-colored lights. The size only served to minimize the already small spark of hope that she'd find that niece of hers; of course, there still hadn't been any conversation between her and the rest of the people on the ship. Feeling out of place, she had taken to prowling the decks. But now that they had landed, there really was no other choice but to get talking and tell them how to get there. They were within walking distance of the city outskirts, seeing as there really was no other place big enough to accommodate the Shera.

Steeling herself, Lily drew up to her normal height and stretched, eying the group a good many meters away; none of them were looking over in her direction. That is, until her cellphone rang. Lily drew it out of her pocket, feeling like smashing the gadget into the ground for so merrily playing that jingly ring tone whilst she was so tense. Frowning when the caller ID didn't seem familiar, she flipped open the cell and pressed the answer button reluctantly, pressing it to her right ear.

"Lily Hayes speaking."

There was a chuckle from the other end of the line. "Hey, babe—nice hearing your voice again."

It was a miracle that she didn't explode. Instead she bristled uncontrollably, blue eyes sparking. Her grip on the unfortunate cellphone tightened considerably. "_How did you get this number_?"

The other person ignored her comments. "I hope you had a good trip. There was word of turbulence over the East Sea. So, tell me, how's Wutai? Nostalgic, eh?"

Lily gritted her teeth together. "You have the _gall_ to give me a ring after everything that you've done?! _Bastard_!"

That caught the attention of the group formerly known as AVALANCHE. Even Vincent glanced out of the corner of his eyes to see what had gotten the woman so worked up. And boy, was she a sight to see—all flushed and furious, looking like she was only seconds away from throwing a magnificent temper tantrum. He took a calculated guess and assumed whoever she was talking to did not exactly have her respect. Everyone observed as she took a deep breath: whether they admitted it or not, almost all were straining their ears to hear what was being said.

"Are you going to visit dear Lewis? Leave a white rose. He loved those, didn't he?"

The anger inside of her rose to an unbelievable amount, and she struggled to keep from shouting. "I forbid you from talking about him! _He_ was three thousand times more of a man than you will ever be, you tramp!"

"Name-calling again." Robert sighed on the other end of the line dramatically. "Will you ever learn that I just want what's best for you, sweet?"

"Tell me what you want so I can hang up on your sorry ass—do it before I lose my temper."

"I like you when you're angry," he responded, making her shake with barely concealed hate. "But, really, do tell me, do you like Wutai? I'm sure Chloe appreciated the sights very much."

"What the hell would you know about Chloe?"

And _now_ all attention was assured. Well, it was sensible, seeing as this predicament had been the one to drag them out here.

"Many things. I must say, ShinRa still has its uses, even if it's in pieces. You'll have to thank that boy for making that rash decision of his. His reaction was better than we ever hoped for."

"What are you implying, Prescott?"

"I'm implying that your precious vault has been opened." When there was silence, he laughed loudly. "You know, we really hadn't expected such beautiful specimens. Of course, they'll be a little difficult to detain, but they're simply stunning. It takes just a move to injure someone..."

She sucked in a sharp breath. "You're lying."

"Darling, you only wish I were." He gave another annoying chuckle. "Oh, that reminds me... Lil, do you have the time, by any chance?"

"Where are you taking this? I can't waste _my_—"

"'—time with you?' Do save it," he said spitefully, his true intentions showing for the first time through his tone. Then the cloyingly mocking way of speech returned. "You've only got about four hours, tops, to reach your beloved Chloe. If I remember correctly, the drive to the caves takes about the same time from where you are now." The statement made her heart sputter. "Let me be the nerd here and tell you that the vault still maintains its sub-zero temperature even after being activated from hibernation. Hmm, let's see: your niece hasn't had anything to eat since the morning _and _she's dressed inappropriately. Ah, there's also the fact that her head's sopping wet. Hope you like your relatives frozen—I know I do!"

She snarled into the receiver, temper barely reigned in properly. "_I will find you_, Prescott. When this is over I'll find you and shove you so deeply into the ground that you'll have to squeeze yourself through your asshole to get out."

"A formidable insult, dearest. You have such faith in my anatomy." Lily could picture the smirk on his face without having to see him. He continued in a jolly voice. "Well, until next time, honey-pie! Keep doing what you do best—being a tart!"

And the line clicked, signaling the end of the call.

–

I stared away from the wall, wishing the drawings to a dark place of hell. I really have no idea about what disturbed me so much about them. Instead of finding an empty space for my gaze to rest on, I only saw another drawing. It was a primitively outlined human body, not very detailed—what caught my attention were the dots spotted around the sketch. I tried to identify them and see what the places marked had in common. Shoulder, throat, sternum...

"Those are vital points," Tyr said from where he was standing, making me start. I hadn't seen him move.

I looked at the drawing and then him, and then went back again. I buried my head in my arms. "Oh, that's just great," I grumbled, and then gave a jarring sneeze. He gave me a look which suggested I had caught a virulent plague.

"Don't tell me you're _sick_."

I scrunched up my nose, sniffing. I let out a huff of white breath, displeased. "I'm not! If one of us two is going to get sick, it'll be you. You were drenched from head to toe."

"I don't get sick that easily."

"Well, then, I'm glad to hear it. Both of us aren't sick." A few seconds after I had finished my sentence, I sneezed again. "Damn it!"

"If you give it to me, I'll kill you."

"Gosh-darn, man, cool it down! I'm not sick and I won't _give you_ anything. Besides, how the heck could I have gotten sick within the space of... of... well, whatever short time we've been in here?" I can almost hear my mom's words in my head. 'It takes three days for the normal flu to incubate.' Blah, blah, blah. My faith in her words wavered just a bit as I gave another sneeze that made my head spin. Come to think of it, I was feeling pretty bad. Pushing aside thoughts of hot water bottles (paradise) and thermometers, I posed another question. "How long do you think we have?"

He shot me a scathing glare. "Due to the display of your stunning _stupidity_, we'll have to make do with all we have." I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued. "The vault's temperature is going to continue dropping. I read about it in the classified files—once the vault is open, temperature is stabilized for whoever was supposed to go in; when the door shuts, temperature reduces to its normal state slowly, over the course of five hours. This descent is slow in order to assure the health of the cells." Tyr paced back and forth now, grinding his feet into the ice. "Jenova cells are not like anything else that scientists have come across—if the temperature of the environment around them suddenly drops or rises to degrees which they cannot survive in, they enter a state of utter hibernation. No conclusive or accurate research is possible at that level and the lifespan of the cells is jeopardized."

Half of my brain wanted me to plug my ears and stop listening to all this junk about Jenova. The other half was compelling me to listen, telling me it might come in handy later.

"Therefore, if the temperature is changed gradually and slowly, the cells remain active. It seems that those...things have evolved to their environment. If they've made it outside, they'll probably have to find a place which suits their needs. The temperature in here is regularly tens of degrees below zero." That alone made my teeth chatter. "Freezing surroundings, water—or ice, darkness: the black one didn't have eyes and the other kept them shut."

"You know, I think that's the most I've heard you say. Ever."

Tyr only glared at me again and then finished off his train of thought. "And since _humans _were never supposed to be in here in the first place—" I scowled here "—I doubt that we'll last long when the vault reaches its original temperatures. We might not even make it through the transition. Ideal human body temperature is thirty-six point three degrees Celsius. Anything below thirty-five degrees Celsius is considered hypothermia. Profound hypothermia begins when the body's temperature drops below twenty degrees Celsius: we probably won't live to see what it's like."

"You pessimist!"

He overrode my comment and turned away from me. "But, con-fucking-gratulations to me!"

This was beginning to get my temper up. "For what?"

"For being a thorough reader. There's a secondary freezing system _inside_ the vault. Tearing that apart may give us two hours more at the most."

I stood, rubbing my upper arms with my hands, trying to retain some heat. My head spun as I righted myself, and I gave another sniff. "What about the primary one?"

"Outside of the vault, idiot."

"Ex_cuse_ me for not knowing the layout and being the victim of brain-freeze." There was silence for a while until I sneezed for the third time. Letting my head loll back (and sniffing more in the process), I asked, "So, where is it?"

He averted his gaze and stepped away. "Start looking."

My temper bristled. "You _don't know where it is_?!"

"That part of the file needed Level Five clearance, alright? Don't scream at me, banshee." He walked away from me, seemingly irritated.

"Who're you calling a banshee? You're the psycho kidnapper!" When he didn't respond, my feathers were ruffled. I gave another angered sneeze. "Well, at least banshees are drop-dead gorgeous."

He scoffed and began his search.

"...What are we looking for, exactly?"

This caused a cracking of knuckles. I still reveled in the ability to tick him off. "Anything out of the ordinary."

"As if everything in here is perfectly normal..."

"Just shut up and search!"

"Someone's in a bad mood today," I said in a sing-song tune, my eyes scanning the murk-swathed floor and ceiling.

"Gragh..."

"How are we going to find something in here? If you haven't noticed, we can barely see the wall we're facing unless we're three inches away from it."

There was an answering click, and a flashlight's dot of light blinded me. I covered my eyes with my hands, squinting from the sudden brightness. I readied myself to give him a good lecture about the flashlight and not pointing it in my face, but he said something that made me swallow my words immediately.

"This is a company flashlight. One use. There's only about half an hour left in its battery."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" I said snappishly. He stared at me blankly. "What're you waiting for?! An engraved invitation? Get your rear into gear!"

"Keep your voice down. Makes my ears ring."

"_KEEP LOOKING._"

"Dammit, woman!"

"This _woman_ is the reason why you're breathing at the moment."

The frown on his face deepened. "You might as well be the reason for why I'll die in this Godforsaken freak-fest container."

"_You're_ the one working for ShinRa, not me! And in case you haven't forgotten, you _opened_ this vault in the first place and set those—" I sneezed violently "—Conan-the-Barbarian miscreations free. So unless you're going to say something that will _usefully_ eat away the time we've got left, you'd better zip the lips and keep your thoughts to yourself!" I finished off my small tirade with another mind-blowing sneeze and growled, lifting my hand to press to my slightly running nose. If I had any luck, I wouldn't get too ill. My nose was starting to get stuffed, and only that made my mood so prickly that even Lily would avoid me when I got sick. I didn't really mind fever or tiredness, but I did mind sore throats and blocked noses. I'd much rather have a fever for two days than a stuffed nose for a week. It was hell on earth.

Doubtless, Tyr picked up on this animosity and wisely left well enough alone. He veered off and went to the other side of the vault, his flashlight sweeping over the walls and the unreachable ceiling. I didn't even bother to tell him that I needed the light too. More arguments weren't going to help at the moment, even if the flashlight was going to speed up my search. I'd just have to deal with it myself, and hope to some god that I'd be granted miraculous night-vision to cope with my surroundings. I sniffed again, set on forgetting my stuffy nose and focusing on my observation of the walls and floor.

Only half an hour left.

–

**7:37 PM**

–

Today, of all days, was when the road _had_ to be blocked. There had been some sort of an accident on the highway and everything behind was stopped up—not that they had a car—but it meant that the sidewalks were packed, as well. A bunch of stupid policemen (at least she assumed that they were policemen) were waving about their hands and trying to move the flow of people around effectively, but all they managed to do was block all possible pathways and create more confusion. It didn't really help that one whistle-tooting idiot was saying the exact opposite of another whistle-tooting idiot.

"Do they want us to go right or left?!" Lily hissed under her breath, making Yuffie give her a sidelong glance. Ever since the blonde had received that characteristically loud phone call, she hadn't been in a good mood at _all_. Then again, no one was in a good mood except perhaps Yuffie herself, who always salvaged some fragments of cheerfulness and optimism. It'd drive her mad to do otherwise. The final blow had been dealt when Lily informed them about the current state of the vault (and the fact that it had suddenly been put to use and opened and closed once today!). The time to reach this place in the Da Chao caves was slipping away by the moment. More delay meant that the creatures would get away further, and, of course, worse for Chloe, along with the kidnapper whose wellbeing that no one particularly gave a shriveled fig about.

This could end two ways, Yuffie thought as she watched the crowd stop and start in front of her. It could end with, _a_: the creatures being taken by that creepy person whom they heard Lily cussing out; _b_: the creatures getting away and flying free, _c_: Chloe and her figgy kidnapper being liberated by Yuffie and her group_, d_: all the good things happening or _e,_ an ending which Yuffie did not like at all: having everything that could go wrong, quite simply, go wrong. At the moment, things were displaying a very discomforting tendency to lean towards the last one. The kunoichi looked about her and tried to spot all her friends. Tifa was not far away from her right, looking solemn and deep in thought, dark eyes serious. In front of Tifa was Cloud, Buster Sword strapped to his back in that mysteriously no-strings-attached way. She wondered if there was a gigantic magnet on the back of his suit that kept the monstrous sword up. Either way, he was not appearing to be very happy with the environment or his thoughts—this feeling, combined with his half-glowing blue eyes standing sharply out of the gloom and the intimidating weapon behind him made people stay a good few steps away from him. They needed the space, anyway.

To Yuffie's immediate left was Lily, incensed but keeping the volume down. She had raked the hair away from her eyes viciously, revealing a young-looking face that was contorted in anger. The woman smelled distinctly of cigarettes and it was noticeable even in the crowd. Yuffie bet she would have liked a smoke at the moment. Thinking just a little spitefully about the fact that Lily couldn't have one, Yuffie's gaze traveled to the person just behind Chloe's aunt, who was perhaps the most silent of them all. Vincent was a quick-moving and soundless flicker of red in the sea of people around them, and, as per usual, there was no tautness of facial features that could indicate dislike or annoyance at whatever passed them by. Cid had stayed behind with the Shera—since the ship was by no means on a landing base, he felt too unsure leaving it by itself.

She could almost picture the closed blinds and locked entrances of the airship. Sometimes she wondered just how much Cid loved the Shera (and not the human one, either). It must be a lot, she would always conclude. A person in front of her gave a shove and she went careening backwards, balancing only on her heels. Tifa grabbed her arm and pulled her up, steadying her. Yuffie's thanks were lost in the din. And, quite abruptly, everything just seemed too _loud_. She didn't want to have to do this. This crowd was here for absolutely no reason. They could have moved on if it weren't for those policemen up front. Well, she was a recognizable face in Wutai, and she'd be damned if she couldn't help this situation somehow!

Yuffie only vaguely heard Tifa's shouted "Where are you going?" when she pushed ahead of everyone, deftly ducking beneath people's waving arms and avoiding limbs at inopportune positions. Eventually, she made it to the head of the crowd, bandana slightly out of place and shuriken pricking her back unpleasantly because someone had knocked it that way. Straightening her head-band, Yuffie puffed up her chest and walked up to the first of the policemen to the right, her displeasure heightening when she saw that the man was only letting two people pass at a time. All this was made three hundred times worse by the fact that there _was no accident_. No wreckage in sight. No blood, no screaming, no ambulances. Not even the slightest upset in terms of buildings and roads. So _why_ were these dodos here, blocking the road? The ninja continued her determined march and stopped just before the policeman's sign-brandishing hand.

"Why are you doing this?"

The man blinked behind his visor, and then looked down, making Yuffie's temper boil. She hated being looked down upon. Physically and metaphorically. When there was no answer, she asked again.

"There isn't a real source for this entire hubbub. So why're you holding up the road?"

He blew into the whistle irately, letting another pair of people pass. "Get back, kid. You're not supposed to be out here."

"...Kid? I'm nineteen."

The policeman didn't seem to believe her. "Whatever you say, _kid_. Now, move away."

Something was very wrong about this entire thing. Why didn't the policeman recognize her? Yeah, it wasn't like she lived in Wutai year round, but she would've trusted someone in the police department to know her face or at least think of her as familiar. Her father wasn't the easiest person to forget, and neither was she. There was a funny feeling all around—a roadblock for no obvious reason, two random policemen—and this happening well into the evening. The circumstances just didn't fit with each other. No, not at all. Yuffie glanced past the policeman and caught sight of another one, this time stopping a person who had just gone through. She watched as the man's mouth moved (he was speaking to the woman) when he pulled out what seemed to be a photograph from his pocket.

Yuffie slunk away from the policeman in front of her, happy when he didn't stop her or tell her to get away from the line. She couldn't pass him, but she could get herself into an angle which allowed her to look onto the photo the man was holding. She had no idea why it interested her this much, but instinct told her to check it out, and her instinct was rarely wrong. The man continued to talk to the woman, pointing to the picture. The tall lady only shook her head and shrugged. Yuffie ducked beneath one man's arms and popped her head through the gap that his arm had created as he rested his hands on his waist. The person was shocked to see her there, logically, but she just looked up with a sheepish smile. This was the only available place to see what that picture was from a distance, and something told her that she'd better take a look at it before the policeman put it away. "Sorry," she said hastily, but then went back to looking at the picture.

The photo caught in the gloved hands of the policeman was one of Cloud. And by the way he was questioning the woman (who had replied negatively to all his queries by now), she assumed that this was far from having any advantage for Cloud. When the policeman pulled out another picture—this time one of Tifa—and his scowl deepened at the woman's head shaking, Yuffie didn't wait any longer. She would have much preferred if this hadn't made sense at all and the "policemen" were, really, Wutaian policemen that didn't recognize her. Unluckily for her, this was not the case.

She was out of there before you could say Leviathan.

When Tifa saw her friend hurtling towards her at a speed that belied her urgency (especially amongst all those people up front), there was only something akin to exasperation in her mind. Would they never get any rest? The kunoichi came to a quick stop shortly before her, not even close to being out of breath. She was bumped aside for a short second as an inconsiderate lady walked past her and they collided at the shoulder, but Yuffie was too focused on something else to take notice of the other female's disdainful stare.

"They're looking for us," was all the ninja said. The words were nearly lost in the murmur of the crowd, but Tifa understood. "Those guys running the roadblock aren't policemen—I don't know what they are, but they want to find us. Where are the others? We gotta find another way around this."

"Cloud's just ahead," Tifa answered, and Yuffie nodded briefly.

"Good, I'll go. Get Vincent—and Lily." The second was almost an afterthought. "Let's go before it's time up!"

And so, a few minutes later, the two friends had successfully guided everyone to an unobtrusive corner, which was actually under the awning of a closed shop on the sidewalk, quite close to where people were passing. So close, in fact, that it would only take a few steps to reach the policemen. The ninja had been apprehensive (as all of the group had been) of being this near, but Lily had said she wanted to confirm something and she'd need to be close to do it. Hearing this, Yuffie had pointed out the mock enforcers of law to Lily, and the woman had taken her time to observe them. Everyone glanced at her now and then, wondering what she could possibly waiting for. The moment arrived when one of the policemen took a phone out of a pant pocket. It was nothing special—just a silver phone with a logo its back—two squares drawn through each other, the white standing out against the dark silver of the gadget. The beginnings of a smirk twitched at Lily's lips. Then, the policeman lifted his sleeve marginally to check his watch; the blue eyes knew where to look. The man's neck was exposed: just beneath his earlobe, nestled snugly between where the neck joined with the head was an all too familiar tattoo depicting a crudely drawn caduceus.

Really, they should have been more discreet.

"Policemen my foot," she growled with revulsion. "Those are hit men, hired by Prisma." Then, under her breath, "You piece of shit."

Yuffie turned to her. "We can't get past them?"

Lily gave a huff. "We could _try_..."

"You seem to be familiar with them." All eyes swiveled to Vincent. "...How many?"

"Knowing Prescott, he's probably got the entire highway swarming with 'em. They don't have to be policemen." The blonde gritted her teeth. "He's not one to let little details escape."

"Well, there must be something that we can do. It's not like we're incapable." Yuffie crossed her arms in thought.

"Except you guys are outnumbered."

"How do you know?"

"You definitely are. Trust me."

Easier said than done, Ms. Hayes.

Not really anyone was pleased with the fact that she seemed to emphasize the strength of these men; all had been up against much, much worse than a batch of assassins and survived. At the moment though, it seemed that what mattered was flight and not fight—there was a timeline to consider, and even now it was shortening. It wasn't really that she was _right_ in this situation. Being pragmatic was truly what gave one the solution.

"There has to be a key point to this."

Quite suddenly, Lily felt like hugging Tifa. This was something she was never inclined to do. Instead, her face was brightened with a very unsettling grin. "You, girl, are a genius." Her gaze rested on a store just two doors down. "Pure genius."

–

Cold. Chill. Freezing. Temperature monstrously below what it should be. If I had ever felt miserable in the Nibelheim winters, now I felt like I was dead, but alive. Living dead. The dead that's living. You get the point. The only thing successfully keeping that alive part existing was moving about, searching for that stupid whatever-it-was. If we didn't find it soon enough, then the light would go out and we'd virtually be as well off as roadkill. Icy roadkill. I started wondering if there were icicles hanging from my nose. I was scared to reach up and feel in case I'd truly find a protrusion. You, or whoever's watching this, can probably understand that the fact I hadn't had food and was possibly sick was _really_ getting to me. I gave a final shiver in my clothes and continued my fruitless search.

"Hey. How's it going, Mr. Flash-and-Light?"

"Shut up."

"I take that as a not good."

"You're not doing any better."

How is it physically possible that his teeth aren't chattering? That he isn't shaking like some flimsy leaf? Well, his nails were probably turning a little blue. He was just too man to show that he was actually cold, too. I sniffed dismissively and turned back to staring at the wall, which was now only a few scant inches from my face. I had the feeling that I could be stuck here for a century and keep looking, but I'd find nothing. That's not really the most morale-boosting and encouraging thought you could have in a situation like this. I opened my mouth to make some stunningly witty comeback when the flashlight sputtered and died.

Total darkness.

"Oh-ho, that's _gold_."

"Zip it, woman."

"Don't go all samurai on me because your stupid light just bailed on us."

"That's it. I'll...!" He was obviously planning on saying more, but I assumed he took too far a step for the ice to accommodate—so he slipped. Magnificently, I may add. Went skidding just like a toboggan down a hill. I got to see the whites of his eyes before he slammed into me and sent us both careening to the end of the vault; the impact caused me to whack the back of my head against the wall (well, at least it wasn't my face this time). Because of the pain, I hadn't noticed that a thin layer of ice had cracked beneath the amazing amount of _bang_ that my head made and the fact that I had actually nearly knocked myself out on a rather inconspicuous corner.

"Holy _mother of—PEARL! _God—jeez—oooww..." The curses faded off into a strangled sound of the pure agony I was feeling. Really, getting clonked and thrown about isn't all that fun. Sign me up for quitting any day! My world spun for a good many moments before Tyr nudged me out of the way; I continued leaning on the wall, trying to stabilize my vision. "Stop the room, please. I'd like to get off," I mumbled, holding a close to fully numb hand to my head, feeling the light frost that had formed there and groaning inwardly. I hardly took note of Tyr nearly pressing his nose to the wall, and only sort of caught on when he beat the butt of his flashlight against the ice: which, to my surprise, broke away rather quickly, revealing the angled corner of what looked like a black box. The clump of ice that covered its center was so thick you could hardly see the box behind it.

"We've found it," he breathed, looking (for the first time since I met him) genuinely relieved.

"Whoopee. So... how d'we kill it?"

He shot me a dirty look, jaw jutting.

I raised a hand in resignation, wincing at the pull of the cut on my fingers. "I was only asking..."

There was no response. He lifted his foot and kicked at the ice. It didn't budge.

"You're going to break a toe one of these days. You just go around kicking—"

He gave me a gloomy glare that promised a grisly murder and then started picking at the ice with his flashlight, chipping away parts of it. "Start working."

I pacified myself with the idea that if worst came to worst, I could always beat him up before the end.

–

**8:07 PM**

–

Yuffie stood before the car, immersed in thought. The word 'key' had incited a spark of ideas from Lily, who had gone rushing to this place, named "_Auto Store & Rent._" Your mind had to be screwed up in a certain way so you could think like her, and she wasn't afraid to admit it. She had handed over number and told the man at the counter that all damages could be charged to her credit card. Yuffie had a feeling that if Chloe had heard that, she would have had a cardiac arrest on spot. But despite thought like this, Lily took the vehicle (a pickup jeep in a rather bitter shade of orange (no wonder it hadn't been rented)) and got into the driver's seat. When none of the responses she expected occurred, she poked her head out of the window, looking bemused.  
"What are you waiting for?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why, what are you going to do?"

Lily looked at Yuffie. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em—but since we can't do either, I say we run over them!"

There was a general agreement. Even though there was no admittance of it, life in general, and its crazy activity had died down far too much, for far too long. What better way to blow off steam than drive through a crowd of your opponents? So they carefully piled in, and Cloud performed an array of maneuvers in order to get into the automobile without piercing its roof clean through with the Buster Sword. A bit of a scuffle ensued, but it was nothing life-threatening and so Lily turned the key in the ignition and started the car. Part of the ninja wondered how Lily was going to "drive through" without squishing any of the innocent bystanders to a bloody pulp, but this problem had already been solved. Yuffie had taken to riding shotgun, since she was primarily the person, along with Lily, who actually had a faint idea as to where they were going.

She was going to regret taking that seat.

–

_Ah-choo!_ That had been the largest and singlehandedly the most jarring sneeze I've ever sneezed. The ice was beginning to fall away from the box, which was now obviously just a _box_ with a ventilation grille in front. I had the most passionate urge to rip the grille out and stomp on it mercilessly. Stupid, stupid grille. Stupid, stupid vault. _Stupid, stupid Chloe! _I reached out to take away a piece of ice away from the surface of the box and was startled when my vision blurred abruptly. My hand stopped its movement and drew back as I rubbed my eyelids, taking no heed of the cut on my fingers—it had grown utterly numb from the cold, and I didn't know what it'd be like when I got out of this place. If I ever did get out, that is. I only started to become aware of the headache that was creeping up on me. I had the weirdest feeling of foresight that it was going to turn into one of the worst migraines I've ever had. I lifted my stare to Tyr, who was still hacking away at the ice (and breaking a lot of it, too) with the dead flashlight. What was the term? Idiot.

He smashed the ice one final time; a chunk of it broke off and shattered at our feet. Not even waiting for me so I could have the courtesy to gawk, he grabbed the grille and did what I had wanted to do: yanked it away without so much as a hint of a remorse and flung it away. He took the flashlight and stuck it with no trace of flinching into the blades of the fan which was whirring just below the surface of the grill. The fan jammed, became dented, and stuttered to a stop. Boy, I would have to get one of these heavy duty flashlights myself. You never know when they're going to come into handy. His hand delved into the cavity of the box again and this time his grip was full of wires when it was pulled out. The system inside the box gave a sort of dejected fizzle, which sunk into silence. Tyr pulled out his flashlight. The air just in front of the box all of sudden seemed a hell of a lot warmer.

What was the term? Victory.

–

**8:27 PM**

–

If Yuffie had known that Lily's driving was equivalent to the Shera on an extremely stormy day, she would have volunteered to walk the entire way to the caves. But she didn't, so she hadn't. And now she felt immensely carsick. They had barely gotten down more than one fourth of the journey, and it didn't seem like Ms. Hayes was going to slow down any time soon. The blonde (whom you could say was possibly off her rocker) had promptly stuck her entire mug out the window and yelled at the guards that they were "Coming through!" Most civilians had the common sense to step aside—and they did—but the mock policemen watched her behind their visors and then raised their guns in retaliation. It was at this point that Lily rolled up the window, lowered her head and stepped on the gas pedal like no other gas pedal has been stepped on before. The irritatingly orange jeep had lurched forward (in the process throwing almost all its passengers forward) and barreled down the highway. People jumped out of the way, and even one policeman was thrown aside from being clipped by the bumper of the jeep.

Surprisingly enough, he had gotten up seconds after and started chasing them on foot, signaling for the rest to follow them. At this point Yuffie and her Wutai-know-how had interjected, and she had instructed Lily to take a sharp left turn. If her memory was correct, the road would lead them to an empty market street. The Xiang-Zhi Market was open from the early hours of the morning till seven PM; when it was drained of all customers and salesmen, the entirety of the wide road was abandoned and often used by the "adolescence" of Wutai as a playground for skating and stunts. As an added bonus, the northern entrance to the market led to the mountain roads—many farmers and cultivators of mountainside tea lived at the foot of the formation and so the way was obviously convenient for them, both to reach the market and bring in their produce.

So Lily had taken the turn and the pickup had appeared in the market road, a blur of disgusting citrus as it raced through the lifeless street, quickly bypassing deserted stalls and waking up the residents above their stores as the car's tyres screeched and scraped at the worn ground, disturbing dust and disappearing in a cloud of it. A random shot had been fired at them then; it passed through both the back and front windshields, breaking the former and cracking the latter, causing everyone to duck instinctively. Wordlessly, Vincent turned around in his seat and aimed into the whirling inferno of dust. His eyes had narrowed in a slightly momentary breath of concentration, and then he had pulled Cerberus' trigger. No one saw where the gunshot landed or if it hit its invisible mark, but the ex-Turk had righted himself and faced forward again with a manner of "problem solved."

As Yuffie bounced about in her seat (knowing that there was a lot more of this bumping to come), she grasped at the armrest. They had so better get there in time!

–

Tyr glared at me. "Don't you dare."

I was getting ready for another sneeze, and from what I could see, it was thoroughly annoying my grouchy vaultmate. I tried to suck air through my blocked nose and failed, giving him a feeble glare in response. "Do I have your permission to breathe?"

He looked at me pointedly. "No."

"Well, I'll do so anyway," I said, turning away from him and crossing my arms over my chest, trying to safeguard what remaining body heat I had left. On top of feeling miserable and under the weather, I was stuck with this glowering pessimist of a bully who couldn't get his priorities straight. If someone had told me that I'd be locked up in here with him, I'd have laughed them off and told them to get their meds. Someone up there is laughing at me and most definitely enjoying it.

At the sight of my head drooping, Tyr sat up ramrod straight. "Don't fall asleep, woman."

I growled at him under my breath, mimicking his snarky way of addressing me. "'Don't, don't, don't.' Is there anything else you can say?"

"I _don't_ want your kicking the bucket on my hands. You're stupid enough to go and sleep yourself into dying."

My chuckle was bitter. "Oh? This is coming from the same person who shot my dog, isn't it? Because last time I checked, he was a heartless bastard."

"That mutt wouldn't leave me alone," was the murmured comeback.

"He was—_isn't a mutt!_" I shouted at him, my damaged fingers clutching the fabric of my pants. "How d'you think you'd react if I shot your little sister?" He flinched. "Would you like it? Would you just let it go?!" In essence, Dante was the closest thing I had to a sibling and best friend. I still remember coming down the stairs on Christmas morning and finding a basket with a black puppy in it—a black puppy with a green ribbon around its neck. The first thing the goof did was jump out of the basket and attack me. Being a sour and dour teenager, I wasn't at all impressed with the ball of fluff tugging at my pajama pants, and even thought it to be annoying. I had picked him up by the scruff, watching in a type of amusement as he batted his paws in my direction and wriggled around in my grip. He had a huge nose and a fox-like face; his eyes were two dots of clear black in the entire mess of fur. When he had licked my face, I'd dropped him unceremoniously.

It had been war for a good many weeks after Christmas between him and I, me moving away and Dante advancing, determined (in a dopey sort of way) to be my friend. I had even asked mom at one point if we could send him back. Laughing, she had refused me flatly. He followed me everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I meant it quite literally. He'd trot after me to the grocer's and run behind my bike when I went for rides in the afternoon. In the evening, when I sat down to read a book or do my homework, he lay at my feet, chin over my slippers. Dante was the type of puppy to poke things—harmful or not—just to find out what they were. He was so curious he tried to nose his way into the bathroom when I was taking a shower; I had promptly freaked out and slammed the door on his snout. My dad had thought that the local peeping-tom had tried to peek through the bathroom window and he came rushing upstairs. Being the overprotective dolt he was, he burst in heroically to see if anything was wrong. To make a long story short, there was a lot of cursing and yelling that afternoon.

The day the fact that Dante wasn't backhanded was beaten into my head came a while after that. I had taken a few shifts over at a bookstore—it wasn't that grand of a job, just sweeping and filing things into place. I enjoyed the information I could glean from the books (especially about traveling and Cosmo Canyon), and I earned a few gil an hour for it, so it was a win-win situation at the time. One day, it stormed really badly. I don't just mean "Oh, cover yourself, honey, it's drizzling out there," kind of storm. I mean gales that you have to try to walk against and sheets of rain so large and thick that you couldn't see where you were going. I made it to the bookstore with much effort, not even noticing that I shut someone out when I crawled into the entrance. An hour later, the storm was still going and I had finished my shift.

I opened the door to see a shaking and wholly soaked Dante at the doorstep. He didn't bark. He wasn't angry. He just had stuck out his tongue and panted at me happily, like he hadn't been sitting in the middle of a raging downpour for sixty minutes, waiting for my idiotic self to work through my shift. Something inside of me had finally snapped. I threw off my jacket and wrapped it around him, picking him up. I remember thinking, _Oh, God, wet dog_, and _Gosh, he's a heavy puppy! _It seemed that all our bonding events usually happened in rain, and this was no exception: it was a start. And as I learned to live with him, I began to realize that I could no longer imagine my daily life without him. One of the dearest memories I've got is the one after my first breakup. It'd been the usual teenager tripe: boyfriend cheats on young woman. But young woman retaliated in a rather unusual manner by gracing boyfriend with a nice big shiner. Kodi had lost one tooth with that punch and spat out something that I didn't think was hurtful until I heard it verbalized.

"You're not a girl—you're a monster!"

True, I wasn't the girliest of the bunch. I didn't go gaga over things that others of my gender usually did. Throughout my early years, my hair was always short. I grew it out only after I turned thirteen. I found it completely senseless when my schoolmates lost their minds over guys. Sure, I understood the general concept of loving someone (heck, I'd like to have someone like that even _now_) and grasped the fact that it would hurt to have that someone leave you. What I didn't understand was the part where you lose yourself for the sake of the other person._ I can't live without him!_ Sound familiar? Now you know why I hate soap operas. All that stuff about not being able to breathe without your "other half" around was okay to some extent, but then it got to the point where I wanted to put an axe through the TV because mom was bawling her eyes out over a drama which was set exactly along those lines. As a result, when all of this had come crashing down on my teensy head, I had, without delay, burst into tears in the middle of the yard. The crying was partially because of Kodi and his insensitive comment, but most of it was the realization that sometimes I needed to cry without a reason, and I hated that epiphany very deeply.

Dante had just puttered along and molded his chin to my knee and licked my bloodied knuckles. It was his way of telling me that everything was alright. I cried some more and hugged Dante so tightly I was sure I had heard the poor dog choke. When my sob-session was over, I marched my way home and had made a point of acting completely normal around Kodi from that day forward. He was scared shitless of me for the rest of highschool, and I quickly caught onto the fact that I wasn't going to be falling in love any time soon. So I just let the topic rest. I was not about to turn into a bleach-haired bimbo with blown-up boobs just to get the likes of Kodi looking my way. If someone didn't like the way I was, it was their choice. However, if they did, that was a win. Besides, I had Dante, and he was most certainly not going anywhere.

"So, if anything, _anything_," I snarled at Tyr, "has happened to him, you will _regret it_."

–

**11:02 PM**

–

Going down a particularly bumpy road was just as bad as going _up_ one. As if that wasn't enough, having to hike up a mountain and look for a concealed entrance was also added to the package. To say that things up here were dark was a gross understatement. It took a good many minutes for her eyes to adjust to the color of the night. Lily had walked around the expanse of the space she was sure the entrance was in about a million times, and still she hadn't pinpointed the exact location. The Turk's PDA had lost most of its battery two hours back, and now it was dead. Because of this, Lily could only rely on her foggy memory and shitty sense of direction. The others had given up on trying to help her. Tifa was seated on a rather large rock, next to Cloud; Vincent was half-leaning against an upright boulder, and Yuffie was the only one along with Lily who was standing. In a word, this was frustrating. Lily stopped before a particularly straight wall of stone and made a point of knocking her forehead on its surface.

Since this didn't seem to be progressing any faster, Yuffie decided to take a seat. She wasn't much inclined to sit next to the potential couple (sometimes she wondered when they'd get it over with and come out of their shells), and neither did she really want to act like a crooked tower and take after Vincent. She simply heaved a small sigh and plopped herself down on a rather stool-like rock, letting out a cry when it sunk beneath her weight and she was drawn into the ground. The wall that Chloe's aunt was using as a head-bashing post groaned and rolled aside, leaving behind a veritable abyss of an entrance. Everyone turned to look at the ninja except Lily, who had stumbled into the passage. She gave a sheepish grin as she felt the effects of three pairs of eyes on her.

"…Good luck?"

–

**12:02 AM, Sunday**

–

Whatever amount of time had passed, I was sure it had been long, because it had been hell. After my outburst, things in the vault had become deathly silent. I had assigned myself to a spot in a far off corner so I wouldn't have to look at his face and be grim on my own. The sleepiness was worse now, and I had to fight to keep my eyes open and ward off the shivering. Too much to think about only made me more tired. I felt like all that I'd done to my mom was wrong. She deserved someone who followed her and was there for her when things happened; not someone who went against her every word and made everything difficult. Everything could have been different after dad died, but it wasn't—and I did nothing to help that. If I went back, I'd tell her I was sorry. And if this story finished any time soon, I was going to do what I always wanted to do. I'll pack my things up and go for that seminar on Planet life and rock quarries in Cosmo Canyon, if it was still existent. I had read the brochure years ago and memorized it. I doubted that the seminar was still going on (although it said it was active every summer), but it was nice to dream about.

Too exhausted to even give a yawn, I instead sniffed and lowered my chin to my chest, feeling the drowsiness close my eyelids.

There was a bang.

"Chloe!"

My eyes opened again, but when I didn't hear anything, my spirits plummeted. "Now I'm hallucinating."

Two bangs this time. A person was hitting the door. "_CHLOE!_"

I sat up, blinking, and then answered. "…Lily?"

"Oh—Chloe…! Are—are you okay?"

"That's a matter of opinion. But I'm in one piece, yeah," I laughed, standing up. Was this real? I had almost convinced myself that there was no one coming and that we'd been left here to have this vault as our tomb.

"Still not frozen yet?"

Yuffie! "No, not yet."

"You sound all stuffed up."

"It's because I am." I looked to the side at Tyr, who had gone sheet white and utterly still.

"It's time to get you out of here," Lily said, I guessed more to herself than anyone else. "Chloe!"

"Yes?"

"Do you see a switchpad to your right?"

I searched for it. "No."

"Well, get to the front of the door. It should be at your right."

Careful not to slip, I squelched and squeaked my way across the floor and stopped shortly before the door. I was sure that we had seen every inch that the vault had to offer, so I wasn't putting a lot of faith in her directions. I put my face (again) a few inches away from the wall and squinted at it.

"Did you find it?"

"No." I scooted a little bit more to the right. A dark spot beneath the ice caught my attention. "Wait," I called, and then turned back to the unmoving Tyr. "Give me the flashlight." He reluctantly handed me the mangled implement.

"There's someone in there with you?" said a voice that I recognized as Tifa's.

"Yeah," I replied offhandedly, swinging my hand back; the butt of the flashlight went smashing into the wall, or more specifically, the ice, and unexpectedly crumbled under the blow.

"Who?"

"Oh, hey Cloud. Didn't know you were here _too_!" I grunted at the last word from the effort of getting the hunk of ice away from the wall with my bare hands. I let go of it with urgency, giving a sound of pain when it stuck to my skin before dropping to the ground and breaking into two. "It's just…a person. A Turk." Let him slit my throat for that. I was so happy at the moment that I would probably be able to best him in a fistfight. I gave a cough, feeling my throat bubble unpleasantly with phlegm. Boy, whatever it was had gotten me good. "I found it!" I said when I saw the square of plastic before me, the logo of ShinRa pressed into its bottom left.

"Good," Lily remarked. "Now, flip open the top. You're going to see a little board with colored keys."

I did so (after breaking the flap due to the frost between the joints), and indeed, there was a little surface with four buttons in blue, yellow, green and red. Would it work after so long?

"Press them in this order: yellow, blue, green, red."

Obeying her directions, I pressed the buttons. The switchpad gave a displeased buzz. I guess it did work, though it didn't do anything positive.

I frowned. "That didn't sound good. Are you sure that's the right order?"

"Try blue, yellow, red and then the green."

I pressed the buttons quickly. This time the switchpad beeped at me approvingly and a keyboard shot out from a slot in the bottom, surprising me.

"Put in the following numbers: one-oh-two-oh-three."

Simple enough. The device beeped once more and the green light beneath its keypad disappeared. And then came the sound that I equated to the choruses of angels: the sighing of the pneumatic doors. The first layer of barriers slid away from the humongous door and then it creaked, slowly opening. A tiny, extremely dim bar of light filtered through the growing entrance, but it was enough to make me want to shield my eyes. We were getting out. At last. Which meant…

I twisted around to take a good look at Tyr, who had shrunk into himself. Feeling regret, now were we? Ignoring the door for a moment, I hobbled towards him and then wrenched one of my shoes off my foot. My limb was numb anyway, and I wouldn't be able to feel anything of the floor, so I marched towards him, paying no heed to my now-wet sock. He didn't notice me until I was irreversibly close, so I lifted my sneaker high above my head and brought it down in the strongest smack I could muster, clonking him soundly. His reaction was instant, but he stayed himself when he saw that I was ready for yet another whack despite the ache in my shoulder.

"That was for Dante, you son of a bitch. I'll skin you alive if I learn that he's—" I whispered, cutting myself off and letting my stare do the rest of the work. I lowered the shoe and put it back in its place, turning my back to him. I didn't want him to be in earshot or in my line of vision anymore. I shuffled towards the entrance, which was still in the process of coming to a stop and stepped out into what I considered harsh light. I couldn't really see in front of me that well, so I had to blink several more times before shapes started coming into focus. There was a pause before something warm (ah, warmth!) tackled my side.

"Chloe-e-e-e!"

"Hi."

Yuffie pulled away only seconds after. "Leviathan, you're cold!"

"I supposed so," I noted, making a valiant effort to stop my shaking. The outside was notably _much_ warmer than the vault—and, to think, I deemed the cavern as chilly. I lifted my stare and saw who was really here: there was Lily, of course, and then Yuffie and Tifa. The last two people's presences, being Cloud and Vincent, were what took me aback. "Hi," I repeated, and then took a light breath. I felt like I was breathing in air from the fireside. "There wasn't much to be done about the two…things that got out of there. I don't have any idea where they went. Sorry." When there wasn't much of a response but silent acceptance, I turned to my aunt. "How's Dante?"

She raised an eyebrow at me. "That's the first thing you ask me?" She looked me over, seeing that I was serious, and then exhaled. "He's fine. A bit shaken up, but fine."

"That's good."

Tyr had slunk out into the entrance of the vault. It was easy to see that those in the group were reaching for their weapons. I kept eye contact with him for a brief moment before I gave my two cents of thought.

"I'd let him go," I commented quietly, recalling the willowy Lan and her daughter. My words hung in the air fleetingly.

"Then," Cloud murmured, "what are we waiting for?"

–

The ride back was squished on the gang's part, but after a lot of persuasion, I sat in the back of the pickup truck, tucked up in Lily's coat whilst she drove like a madwoman back to Wutai. I had forgotten how bad of a driver my aunt was until that day. I was quiet and still trying not to fall asleep, although the feeling rushing back to my limbs was enough to keep me alert. It was a slightly painful process which I was sure to be long and drawn out. My thoughts became more disjointed as the drive continued. The lightening of the sky began as we neared the city, and I knew that I had spent almost an entire twenty-four hours awake. I was so totally going to be a vegetable after this. I remember thinking and wondering about what Tyr was going to do from now on. I personally hoped he'd haul his ass back to his family and gave them the attention they deserved. I still wanted to know his backstory, but it was none of my business unless you counted the fact that he had repeatedly barged his way into my life in a most aggressive manner. There was a half-hate, half-feeling that I could relate to him concerning the sensation of loss.

Seeing the Shera (which I had never actually seen before) was like getting a glimpse into something divine. I was led inside, jittering and all, and taken to a cozy room with an extremely welcoming bed with a crisp white coverlet and a pair of fluffed pillows. The carpet was soft under my worn feet and I wanted nothing more than to just fall into the bed and forget all of this had ever happened. Cid was astoundingly civil (sans the swearing) when I walked in, scanning me from head to toe, and saying, quite coolly, "Man, you look fucked up." I had agreed with him, and took no offense, especially since the tone was non-hostile. I was headed by the three people—them, being, of course, Lily, Tifa and Yuffie—who took me to the room, and I think the look of relief on my face was obvious enough for all to see.

My aunt had sat me down on the bed. "Get some rest."

No shower, no food. But I didn't really mind. My mind could barely register that I was no longer in the vault. Something that made my entire body go lax came over me; my vision became fringed with fuzziness and gloom. I was beyond the point of analyzing my situation as I tipped backwards to the sound of Lily saying my name. Basically the only thing I regretted was that I didn't feel the gentleness of the bed.

I, for the second time in my entire life, had passed out.

* * *

_You read this far? You are made of awesomeness._


	22. Dream Down Memory Lane

_**A/n: **_In the time that I've worked on this update, I've gotten sick twice and been in some deep psychological-mumbo-jumbo crap. Too much work and too much to think about, unfortunately. My apologies. I'm still writing, though! (The attractive Studio Ghibli fandom has snared me again…) A day doesn't go by when I don't think about my stories. I seriously mean that. I've got a YouTube channel up, so I should be able to share my compositions/themes soon. Thank you for all your reviews—they've been far more encouraging than you'll ever know. This chapter's a bit below par, since not much is going on, but there are a few hints here and there: tell me if you think you've picked up on them! I do warn you, though, that Past!Lily is significantly more of a bitch than she is now.

**VixentheHellraizer – **I haven't laughed over a review like that for a while. Many thanks. I'm glad you enjoy Chloe's misadventures so far. You're right, virtual cookies are overused and overrated! I, for one, adore brownies, so thank you again. :)

* * *

_**Chapter 22**_

It was now the afternoon of Sunday; the sun was spilling its rays through the window in the room, covering the carpeted floor in another layer of warmth. Lily sat on a chair by the bed, elbow propped up on her knee, and, in turn, her chin propped up on her hand. Chloe had promptly gone out cold as soon as she had sat herself down on the bed, and she hadn't woken up fully from then. Her only movements were of a person who was ill: hands twitching at the wrists occasionally and ragged breathing, face flushed under the influence of a fever. Yuffie had brought in a doctor who made home calls; he was rather surprised to see an airship in the middle of a field on the outskirts of the city, but he didn't ask any questions and asked to see the patient.

He had been led to the room, and spent a good deal of time listening to Chloe's chest, taking note of her raspy inhalations and exhalations. He asked questions, took her pulse (which was rather rapid) and checked her eyes for reactivity to light since she was unconscious; gauze was wreathed around her neck in a grim choker, covering a clean laceration on the side of her throat. A similar pattern of bandages gloved her right hand, whose fingers had been slashed rather deeply, but neatly. Tifa had fished out a robe and a pair of spare slippers from a storage room buried in the chaotic belly of the Shera and presented Lily with them.

The verdict that was reached by the doctor was that Chloe had gotten a case of acute bronchitis. What seemed to have at first been a common cold evolved took a sharp turn towards something that was a great deal worse than just influenza. The doctor assured them that with the right treatment (namely, a nice, warm bed, some weird medicines that he had prescribed (they looked dangerous, in her opinion), plenty of fluids, and some more rest). But nothing could truly still the nervousness in her when she didn't see the flush die down on Chloe's face and found that the thermometer produced the same results over and over again. She coughed spasmodically in her sleep, and one particular hack was so strong that she leant over the side of her bed and did her best in her unaware state to dislodge the green phlegm from her airways. She succeeded, in a way, by coughing three times as powerfully as she had before, but that success only made rushing to the bathroom for a pot necessary; Lily had pushed it under her mouth just before she vomited from the irritation she caused. Lily made a point of turning the pillow over so it was cooler and wiping away anything remotely disgusting or obstructing from her niece's face.

And then began the long wait. She changed Chloe's clothes, knowing that this would be a massive conflict when the other one regained her senses. Nonetheless, she continued to wash and comb out Chloe's hair—which had actually gotten rather long—swearing when she came across tangles that she couldn't loosen with just a gentle pull. When she was done, the stream of dark blonde hair was laying rather smugly across a nightgown-clad shoulder: another point which Chloe would possibly hate her for more when she awoke. Even in her teen years, she had made the greatest fusses in order to wear pajamas. Lily remembered her fairly meek sister trying to get her then-hormonally-imbalanced daughter to get into a nightgown that had been purchased that afternoon; she also remembered the miniature row that had ensued afterward, which had involved dodging under tables and a large amount of drawn out "Mo-o-om" s.

Things were very different now. Much as she hated to admit it, whatever this fragmented family had had in the past, it was almost wholly gone at the moment. The most precious chunk of it had disappeared in the fire and was buried in the Nibelheim cemetery, with white flowers growing over his grave and brushing at the inscription etched into the gray stone. She had always joked that he was a coward and that he would leave earlier than anyone else in the family. Those gags left a bitter taste in her mouth now, and instead of playful shoves and spurts of laughter, all she could see were drawn expressions and the tear-stained face of her sister. When they had first moved into her house, she had wished, more than once, in the beginning, that they would return to Nibelheim and leave her in peace. The silence around her residence was no longer company but a burden, weighed down with cheerless thoughts and bottled-up grief. She had thought she'd go insane between Connie's robotic way of getting through the day and the unpredictable mood swings that Chloe had earned herself. Sooner or later, the atmosphere surrounding the home lightened.

She was slightly intimidated when she thought of her life in general and found that she couldn't see her patterns falling into place without that sister and niece of hers. It had become habit, poking around and calling Chloe 'Sprout' again, just to see the way the feathers of the younger woman were ruffled. Dammit, she had gotten used to waking up to the sounds of cooking food and good-natured (could it be called that?) arguing. The dog never came near her quarters—no, Dante made sure that he stayed well away from the region of the house that was remotely associated with Lily. He was always stuck to Chloe's side, a living, breathing version of a magnet; seeing her here without the whirlwind of calamity, sick and unwell, was a bizarre sight. Groaning inwardly, Lily snatched the thermometer off of nightstand beside the bed and looked at the thing irritably. It was an ear thermometer, one that Cid had found for Lily in the chaos of the storage room, surprisingly, since Shera had bought it a few months back and stashed it away due to her notorious dislike of oral thermometers. The tool presented a win-win situation: she didn't have to stick a thermometer into Chloe's mouth and hold it there until the blasted thing gave a tone, _and_ it minimized the chances of actually hurting her niece unintentionally.

So she leaned over, popped the thing into Chloe's ear, and pressed the button, pulling it away with a beep. She gave the temperature reading a scathing glare: 39.9° Celsius. Oh, just perfect! It had gone down about, what, _one _degree since she last measured? What in the world had that medicine done, anyway? And, with a horrific suddenness, she realized that Connie was right when she said that Lily would sooner kill one of her patients with her frustration than actually nurse them back to health. No wonder Connie was regarded as the long-suffering of the two in both the girls' childhood and adulthood. It had been a standard sight back when they were small: Lily, flying about in a wordless rage punctuated by loud shouts and a good amount of gesticulation with her hands; then, closely behind would follow Constance, the placatory, logical voice of reason that never failed to draw the older sister out of her temper fits. Nearly driven their poor parents mad, God rest their souls.

_That's it,_ Lily thought, running a hand through tousled hair. _I can't do this anymore. If I think any more about it, I'll—_

Solution? Stop thinking about the past. So she did. Lily turned herself away from the bed and got up from her chair, stretching her legs. They had become numb whilst she sat and waited for Chloe's bouts of lucidity. The day was going to mature quickly into night, and she saw herself staying up for its biggest portion; the PDA of that brat that had hoisted Chloe away from her home was heavy in her pocket, as if its burden had increased expressly for the purpose to infuriate her out of the sleep-deprived corridors of her mind. She suddenly wished that Connie was here (something that she _rarely _even considered) to tell her what to do. Was she treating Chloe correctly? Was she supposed to do something else? What if she was_ killing_ the young woman?!

Lily shook her head and gave another wobbly sigh, trying to stave off the terrifyingly deeply-rooted anxiety that had sprung up at her. _You only realize what you've got when you lose it, _Constance the Life Guru had once said whilst tending to a eighteen-year old Lily's cheek, which had been gashed open by a fancily ridged ring that had just so happened to adorn the finger of the person who punched her. She had jerked back and rudely asked for the shrink-sayings to be stopped, but Connie, wielding her cotton ball soaked in antiseptic, had given chase. In truth, the words of the sister she surpassed by four years in age had shaken her foundations.

From then on, those words popped up at the most inopportune times. They had nearly torn her apart on the eve of her wedding and devastated what remained of her heart as she stood in front of Lewis' resting place, disbelieving that the bright-eyed, always grinning man was below her feet, buried underground in an impersonal casket. The feel of the moist soil between her fingers and soaking onto the knees of her pants was fresh in her memory, as was the image of two lilies laid on the barely visible mound before the headstone. It had been an early morning when she got the news—and it was already months later than what it should have been—when she scrambled from her bed and booked the next flight to Wutai, disregarding packing and only stopping to snatch her wallet and cellphone on the way out. The journey to Wutai was a blur, an insignificant part of her haste: everything had stopped when she finally entered the cemetery, and what she had been told over the phone was proved to be true. She hadn't cried. Nah, she was the cold-hearted bitch that hadn't even shed a tear at her mother's funeral. She had just knelt in front of the grim stone and flicked her glance down at the picture of a face she had memorized leaning against it—and she had lifted her head and laughed until her smoker's cough did not allow her to use any more precious air.

The few, very first visitors had dispersed at the sound, for it was bitter and hollow and steeped in the loss that they all shared; none of them thought to stop her or reprimand her actions. She sat there for hours, cross-legged, as she watched the day wane and smoothen into afternoon and observed the visitors that came to pay their respects to the dead. She saw the stragglers and the urchins that passed by and lurked at the borders of the cemetery, as if some sort of a barrier was keeping them from entering. It seemed like minutes had passed when in fact it had been an entire day: an entire day devoid of activity, of sustenance and speech. And, as unexpectedly as she had arrived in Wutai, she left it behind after a restless night in a motel. The days that followed were pure misery.

Lily was distracted when the door to the room creaked open and she saw that Tifa stood in the entrance. Behind her was Yuffie, peeking around the door and then standing in the room when the way was cleared; in one of her hands was a brown bag, folded into a square. The owner of Seventh Heaven glanced at a bed-ridden Chloe she was unaccustomed to; she half expected the young woman to bolt upright and smirk at them, saying that she couldn't believe they had fallen for such a farce. Of course, this specific predicament wasn't anything serious or life-threatening, but it was fairly disconcerting to see such an active person so worse for the wear.

"Any change?"

Lily shook her head. "Not as far as I can tell." She turned back to observing Chloe, whose face tightened into a frown at something only she could see; beneath the scrutiny of the three, her fingers rustled at the blanket and then she let out a long, quiet sigh full of some unknown and nostalgic relief. She lay still as she relaxed comfortably despite the redness in her cheeks, and Lily felt the haze that had been over her dispel when she saw true sleep overcome her niece.

--

_This place was familiar. The breeze drifting through the open window ran through the room like a forgotten song, a relic of happier times. Through the white sunlight and cascades of dust motes, I could see my mother's blossoming garden: it was her pride and joy and often the subject of her boasting to our neighbors. The armchair was accommodating and welcoming underneath me; I knew that if I stretched out my hand and groped along the armrests I would find the place where a puppy's then-newly found jaws had taken a rather large chunk of fabric and stuffing away from the furniture. Sunlight played on the surface of the parquet floor—this held a different glare from marble and tiles—this was home. All the air about me smelled of morning coffee. I knew how he brewed and the brand, and I knew who had drunk it and at what time. He usually came down the stairs at around six in the morning, because he liked to start his day early; by the time I woke up in my room on the second floor, the fragrance of ground coffee beans harvested in a region I couldn't recall had already diffused and permeated the area. _

_ Just next to the window sill was the little space I often used for reading and immersing myself in my own fantasy realm, when I needed to escape the bustle of the café and block out the sound of Mom's voice tending to orders and murmuring about servings lacing her breath. I tilted my head to the right, in a recognizable angle. Although I don't know why I did it, I knew that I expected to see something. So when the sight of a clock greeted my eyes from its high, pinned-up position above the door to the kitchen, I was not surprised. The design seemed to be pressed on the inside of my retinas; even if I closed my eyes, I could tell you where the bluebell decorations stopped and where the enameled robins perched on their branches of raised metal. That was why mom had gotten the clock in the first place. Its odd but undeniably homey appearance attracted her immediately. But the memory of the purchase is rather blurred in my mind: I was only three, after all. The only thing I can remember is my mother bending down to my level and showing me a circular object (she still carried her trademark scent of sweetly musty powder), and then smiling so happily and so widely that I laughed at her and grasped at her glossy brown hair. _

_ Ever since then, that clock had been counting the time in our house without fail. It had been knocked over repeatedly and even toyed with when someone wanted the "time" to go faster. Down below it was the frame of the entrance to the kitchen, which was lacking a door; I always enjoyed running into the kitchen barefoot during a summer day. When my feet would get insufferably hot, I'd kick off my slippers and patter on towards the kitchen, where I stood for entire minutes upon the cool, light blue tiles and childishly delighted in the decrease of temperature. Mom would often snap at me for plodding about the kitchen with dirty feet, and she would get extremely antsy when I barreled my way inside after an entire day of wallowing about in the garden and the streets (which were anything but pristine)._

_When I was younger, I could easily be called the most inquisitive girl in the village—the ladies who maintained standards, so to say, would always give me secretly reprimanding looks. Nibelheim was the world to them, and they did not need to know anything else. But my curiosity grew, as did my thirst for knowledge. I was rough in many ways, and most of the times brasher than I needed to be, much to the embarrassment of mom and the vexation of the well-known circle of village gossipers. _

_To label them as aristocrats would be utterly wrong, and to say they were snobs would be incorrect as well; people like Mrs. Marge who had lived across the street in her rambling general store were the type of women who had been raised thinking a certain way, and that way was not going to change. It seemed ridiculous to my schoolteacher that I acted much more like a young boy than a girl. On the day when my lunchbox had been raided and I had been made the subject of a one-sided tag in my class, I swung myself up into the tree rooted into the middle of the small, dusty playground during recess and waited for my target to pass beneath the boughs of the tree. Granted, my disguise wasn't the best or the most convincing, but we were in third grade and I was pissed. _

_ Both of us (that's Rodney and me) had been sentenced to cleaning duty after school. It wasn't anything strenuous, just cleaning up the blackboards and the classroom—because there was only one in the elementary building—and I had been unperturbed by the so-called punishment. Being given a free view of my enemy's bruised and broken nose was worth the effort. I had sported some scratches and a nice black eye myself. The scolding from mom was bearable: I basically got off scot-free when in the meanwhile Rodney was given the title of the person who had been beaten up by a girl. I challenge you to find a more satisfying revenge for a vindictive nine-year-old. _

_ Coming home after school was always a great experience, even if I had argued with Mom and we were at odds with each other. I could always make my way through the house and somehow crawl towards the loft, where my dad's little corner of paradise was. Despite the fact he was greatly interested in things like warfare, the way it was conducted, and that he could pick out the make of a firearm three seconds after he saw it, I had known that what he enjoyed doing most had to do with art; the lifelike drawings of fiends and landscapes (my favorite one used to be the sketch of the view from the loft itself at sunset: Mt. Nibel in all its curved, thorny glory with shadows all about) were what I considered his true calling. On Sunday mornings, which was his official day off, I would draw up a stool next to his tall table and watch as he drew and created a world upon paper with pencil strokes. _

_I especially loved it when he worked with paint and watercolors; the latter of the two had the colors that I liked most, for they were softer and seemed more dream-like. I knew that there was the possibility that I annoyed him, but I disregarded the fact or forgot all about it when he began to draw. There was a time when I had stayed up so late the night before that I ended up slumping onto my father's shoulder and waking halfway through the next day's afternoon. _

_The image of my father leaning over me with a quiet greeting as I cracked my eyes open is still vivid in my mind. In fact, very many images of him are still vivid in my mind. Drilan Browne was a lean and lanky man of few words, whose feelings were mostly expressed through expressions and carefully constructed sentences. He always seemed to have a smile to spare for anyone that was downcast. It was a gentle smile, comforting, and it shone through the wispy black hair that hung about his semi-tanned (and seemingly ageless) face. One of his favorite things to do was hike up the trails and take his drawing kit with him, so it was not surprising that he had the physique of a person who did manual labor for most of the day, nor that his skin was somewhat sun-browned. _

_Some of mom's most famous remarks had to do with the fact that she was so surprised about dad being so placid, and that she was the one who would be considered the more jumpy of the two as a couple—I guess all those years living with Lily had made her bottle up aggression. Lucky me for receiving it, right? _

_She wasn't necessarily nasty or horrid, but sometimes I got the impression that her telling-offs were directed at someone besides me, and that puzzled me in younger years. Back then, Lily had been one of those relatives that you know but you don't: I had known her only through the visits she made to Nibelheim—and those weren't stupendously numerous, either. It was by far apparent that she did not get along with dad. They could find something to squabble about even if there was nothing left on the Planet and they were the only two people left. Rather shocking, seeing as dad was basically one of the kindest people around. But then again, there's always one, isn't there?_

_Once, Lily had managed in clubbing dad over the head with mom's prized rolling-pin and giving him a veritably big lump on the crown of his head; it was almost unnoticeable amongst the strands of black hair, but it still bothered him. They had been at odds for a good two weeks before dad (predictably) was the one to apologize and initiate the standard temporary truce. Mom had zipped up behind him and laced her arms around his neck, chuckling like a giddy schoolgirl; she had pressed a kiss to his cheek and said, "See? This is one of the reasons I married your daddy, Chloe. If you ever find someone for yourself, get one that apologizes first."_

_Smirk from Lily. "Yeah, Sprout. Marry yourself to a paint-toting pansy." _

_I had seen Dad's right eye twitch discreetly as he reached up to cover Mom's hands with his. I admired the way the action didn't seem incongruent, but looked as if it was perfectly natural. In my inexperienced mind, I imagined all couples to be this way. "Dear sister-in-law, how nice it is to see your nasty nature back. I have to say that I prefer it to that of a Valkyrie that wields rolling-pins."_

"_There're many more bumps where the original one came from."_

"_A most reassuring thought," dad said dryly. _

_My mother cleared her throat. "Now, now, children. Let's put away the dangerous toys and get to the dinner table. I'm famished."_

_This was where I had piped up. "Me too!" I turned to mom. "I want extra pie today. Fighting makes me hungry." If there was an excuse to get some more of mom's kickass apple pie, I was going to voice it no matter how ludicrous it sounded. _

"_The Sprout's going to scarf down the dessert again!"_

_I scowled at Lily. "I'm a growing child. I need the—" I stopped, looking for the word mom had told me earlier today "—nourishment. That's it. I need the nourishment!"_

_My aunt grimaced right back. "Cheeky imp."_

_Mom laughed loudly, making dad, whose ear was next to her mouth, wince. "I'd give you the pie anyway, sweetie. These two don't deserve it."_

"_You say this in front of the man who risked his life getting the apples from the market?" dad asked brokenly._

_Mom gave him a squeeze. "Oh, hush, Drilan. You make it sound terrible."_

"_Crossing paths with Miss Beatrice armed with an empty shopping basket makes it terrible enough."_

_Miss Beatrice was something of a legend amongst young and old in village; mom often said that when she was a teenager, Miss Beatrice was already counted as elderly. A spinster with a notably fiery temper and a rather strong hand, she roamed Nibelheim not unlike the fiends that crawled at the borders of the trails. It was said that her first love had gone rather screwy and it had ended very badly on her side. She had forsworn men and anything to do with them since then, but did not seem put off from offering matchmaking advice (or orders) and extolling the hazards and dangers of involving yourself with the opposite sex. Miss Beatrice was as timeless as the stones in the houses, and equally stolid. Her salt-and-pepper colored hair was perpetually pulled back in a tight bun, and delicate, half-moon spectacles rimmed with gold sat upon the bridge of her nose. In my mind, she was a toweringly unreachable figure perched the pinnacle of loneliness, and when I was about five I was witlessly terrified of her. Things got better as I put years under my belt, and soon I found I could talk to her, though she mostly said things that I didn't feel too comfortable with._

"_Protect your little 'un, Constance Browne," she had warned tremulously, encasing my shoulder in her bony cage of a hand. "She'll grow to be a looker, mind you. Browbeat any rascals that come after her. I have a good stick under my bed… strong oak… when I'm gone you can have it." She always made comments of that nature, but it didn't seem she was going to join the spirits in the Lifestream any time soon. Even if she had been a shadow of something nightmarish during my years as a child, she became more and more human as my understanding became clearer. Dante had absolutely loved her, in the short time he had to know her; when we were out on walks he would trot over to her and give her the standard 'Bambi-eyes, wagging tail, lolling tongue' position, and to my surprise, she'd go along with it. Sometimes Miss Beatrice would say that if Dante were a person, she might have considered going back to the world of matrimony. I had had to admit that they made quite a pair: a big teddy bear of a shepherd and a half-hunched, sharp-faced grandma. My care for her eventually had a prominent place in my heart. I began to mind for her unconsciously. It started as analyzing her state when I met her in the store and got to look-ins at her small house to see if she was alright. Miss Beatrice had no relatives._

_Her parents had passed on a while ago, obviously, and she had had two siblings—a brother and a sister. The brother, according to mom, had been killed in an incident with some fiends; all three had been playing a little further from the settlement than what they should have been, and things had simply gone from bad to worse. The boy was already dead when they brought him back to village. Everyone said that the event stayed with Miss Beatrice and her sister for all the years after; when the sister (whose name I had probably heard but forgotten) turned eighteen, she left Nibelheim and never looked back, leaving behind her entire family and condemning them to a future where they practically did not exist for her. No one really knew why she had done such a thing, but there were several theories that flew about. It was easy to pick out which ones had been concocted and thought of in Mrs. Marge's shed and which were the results of the tweaked truth. _

_When I was first told the sad story of Miss Beatrice's family, sitting on my mother's knee, I had thought that Lily was rather like Miss Beatrice's sister. After all, mom had told me that Lily had pretty much packed up and left as soon as she could when she could and overlooked that she was essentially letting her little sister eat her dust. _

_There was a photograph of two young girls propped up a coffee table just on the right of the entrance; the background of the picture was visibly Nibelheim, and the top left corner of the image had just captured a wedge of the house I had grown up in. One girl, noticeably shorter than the other one, smiled shyly at the lens, only a sliver of her white teeth showing between her lips. Her pin-straight brown hair was loose, hanging to her shoulders and fastened back by a barrette. The other one, next to her, was taller and far more mature in appearance. This was the only image I had of Lily. Gloss coated her lips and dark eyeliner emphasized her eerily blue eyes; the smooth lines of her neck and shoulders were shown off by a simple powder blue shirt, and as far as my eyes could see, there was no blemish on the pale surface of her skin. Thick, vividly blonde hair was bunched slackly at her nape; I would often wonder how long her hair truly was if the band wasn't there. _

_Through my large child's eyes, this woman (because that's what I thought her as) was as pretty as I would hope to be—if I ever hoped to be pretty, that is. I would construct stories about her and imagine what kind of a person she was, or what she would say when she met me. When I asked mom if she'd ever visit, mom would only say, "She'll come one day." And did she ever! I don't think I've ever been so disillusioned by a single person. I can still remember the thrill in the pit of my stomach when I heard that that _the_ Lily was at our doorstep with a suitcase, ready to stay with us for a month. I was overjoyed. My dad's face had been the sourest I had ever seen it, and my mom was so ambivalent that my hopes (which hadn't been contradicted by my parents, by the way) started to lose their confidence. What I got instead of the person in the picture was a woman who had lost all respect for herself. The first impression she gave me was that she was a very disappointed and cheerless human being. _

_Soon after I got my introductory puff of smoke in the face, my resolve began to crumble. The acerbic comments quickly followed, and though they weren't directed at me, I still felt annoyed at them. I hated the way she was completely sloppy. I hated the way she treated my mother. I hated the way she made snide notes about my father. Most of those snide notes were said in a manner that I couldn't understand, but my mind rejected the way they were spoken and inflected. I began to question why my parents possibly let her stay in our house. My own aunt frightened me a fair bit, but I was not about to back down. I had no idea that things would get better over time, but this was the first time I was exposed to any amount of Lily Hayes. _

_Halfway into the month (approximately about the time she began to call me Sprout), I started thinking about the visit as torture. _

--

Lily started violently, waking with a vengeance. When had she fallen asleep? How long had she _been_ asleep? She cast a hurried glance over at Chloe, who, to her dismay, was still deep in slumber; but there was relief for Ms. Hayes when she saw that the fever's reddishness had disappeared from Chloe's cheeks completely, and that no perspiration dotted her brow. Blearily she realized that the surroundings were quite dark, and that the fading glow of sunset had only just begun to depart from the sky. Lily stood and stretched, shaking out her feet that had grown numb from her prolonged crouch over the bed. She craned her head to the right and looked out the window, trying to recognize the darkened surroundings beyond the window. The light was dim and low in the guestroom, making it rather hazy and stirring in her the desire to lie back down and get back the sleep she had lost over the course of two weeks past.

She was just about to obey the magnetic urge to sleep again when she realized she could see something shimmering beneath the muted light; it was passing below the airship at a moderate speed. Squinting, she concluded that the object was flat. And wide. Very wide. Unless she was hallucinating (which was very probable, seeing how she was) said object was well-known body of water called the ocean. But that looming outline in the distance seemed very familiar. Why were they hovering over this place, firstly—and secondly, why was the Shera slowing down? Set on finding out exactly why, Lily walked easily to the exit, wincing when a muscle in her leg pulled uncomfortably. Lily closed the door behind her just in time to miss the tight frown that came over her niece's face and the tiny shudder that ran through her body.

--

_I pulled on Dante's leash as he wormed off of the trail, trying to sniff at some outlandish bush sprouting in the most random direction of all. A chuckle came from behind me when I was dragged forward by the dog, the heels of my shoes digging into the soft earth. I tossed a semi-glare over my shoulder, displeased with dad's laughing and my lack of strength against what I considered an overgrown puppy._

"_This isn't funny!"_

"_If you could see yourself from here, then you would disagree," my father's voice said, a hint of a chuckle still in his words. _

_He moved forward and grasped the leash firmly, and finally we managed to pull the wayward Dante away from his nose-quest; I often thought that if he continued this way then something unpleasant would jump from the brush and just nip him in the nose and that'd be that. I was too busy with looking after the canine that ran ahead of me to notice that my dad had slowed his pace. Soon his hand was around my wrist and gently pulling me backward. Dante, unusually, complied with him, and came rather quickly to my feet, making a beeline for the path we had just come from. I looked up to see the slight incline give way to a familiarly daunting structure, one that the people of the village knew as the ShinRa Mansion. There wasn't a person who dared to approach it now—not even the supposedly courageous village youths—especially with the incident that had occurred with the beggar a while ago. _

_Our walks habitually happened somewhere between five o'clock and seven, when things were least active in the village and we had our free time. I made it my business to have my homework done before five, since I never wanted to miss time with Dante and dad combined. It was a strangely relaxing combination, and we would take our merry time in making our way through the safest of paths around Nibelheim, avoiding the ones that strayed too near the mountain or ShinRa Mansion. The only way one could almost guarantee safety in the region of Mt. Nibel was if you had a village guide with you; I remembered very little about these guides since I was fond of exploring on my own and didn't typically retain any information that did not have to do with me. The best guide in village (based on word of mouth) was apparently a girl younger than me: it was weird that I hadn't seen her around, mainly because Nibelheim was such a tiny community. Here, though, we had no guide and the light was starting to fade; I doubted that even this rumored best guide would willingly set foot in the abandoned mansion._

_But there comes the contradiction of the entire thing. It seemed that now, at least, the mansion was not completely deserted. If you went close enough to see where the basement slanted over the ground at the back of the structure, you could spot easily that the lights (carroty, purely artificial, an ugly color) were on. They had stayed on ever since that SOLDIER had arrived, and hadn't been seen going off at any time—not in the wild, fiend-filled night hours, not in the gray, squinty reign of the dawn, and not in the pale face of the mountain morning. There wasn't a peep from any corner of the mansion. In fact, it was quieter and more muted than it had ever been. The fiends that once had roamed the withered garden and behind the rusted gates were gone, even the stronger ones. Popular consensus was that someone or something had scared them off. No one was very eager to discover what this force was, and no one ever inquired about the silver-haired SOLDIER general who had simply vanished into thin air after turning up in our little village. _

_So when my dad turned around cautiously and began to make his way home, Dante and I followed without question. _

--

She was tired and sleepy beyond reason, and it seemed as though the nap she had earlier at Chloe's side did nothing whatsoever to help her current situation. So when Lily opened the door to plod back into the guest room with new information swirling about in her quick-working mind, she took no notice of the tenseness in the sleeper's shoulders. She sat herself down and thought she was going to look out the window until the sun came up, but instead she leaned forward and dropped off again. When she woke up, she would not be happy with herself.

--

_The smoke was everywhere—in my eyes in my lungs my mouth I couldn't—breathe. Swells of panic in my mind made it impossible to think straight: I had forgotten all about mom leaving the house to run some errands. I had forgotten about how she was safe, and how I should be grateful about it, because she was miles away at a supply store for the café whose manager refused to drive to our village and probably wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Was there a tomorrow? Where was I? This inferno, this hellish lair of fire and ash was not my home! My home was green and lush and part of the backwater whose names the city-people would make fun of. My movements were feverish as I stumbled down the stairs at the back of the house, my shrieks drowned and muted by the smoke in my throat. _

_ It was on my back and my shoulders. Fabric burning. Acrid smell. The skin on the back of my wrists was black; I could feel something between my shoulder blades sizzling. My hands, the palms, the fingers were burning. They were so hot (so hot) that I could only blindly search for a relief in the chaos revolving about me. My vision was reduced to a plane of blackness lashed with orange. Barking echoed in my ears, but it was faint compared to the roar of the flames. Something at my legs nudged me along. I saw a faint outline of a rectangular object up ahead and raced for it, tripping over myself. I was being driven to the brink of madness by the sensation of the fire curling around my nape. My force was cut off abruptly when my knees hit the edge of the trough we had out back for travelers' chocobos and I fell face-first into a cool haven. _

_ As I drew myself out of the water, I realized that I could not support my weight with my hands. The hands before me did not seem to be mine. I owned a pair of roughened tomboy's limbs, darkened by the sun and crisscrossed with various scars; none of that was visible under the layer of scaly black that had overtaken them. I foolishly picked at it in a childish attempt to get _rid of it_, unaware that I was hiccupping with tears. The withered flakes of burnt flesh peeled away and I was left standing there with bleeding, scarlet-stained palms, shaking with some unknown affliction of terror and disbelief. _

_ A jab brought me back to reality, and I looked down to see the ever-faithful Dante, his usually bright eyes dimmed and his prized fur limp and ruined with burns. He gave a weak bark and then choked on his breath: I was suddenly aware of my powerlessness. I couldn't inflate my lungs. Dropping to my knees, I tried to take a deep breath. It worked. I tried again. Dante's nose pressed to the side of my face. He took hold of my tattered, ratty pajamas with his jaws and gently pulled forward. I jumped up again when I felt heat lick at the soles of my feet._

_ The world was a daze as I took in the sight of what had been my home. My eyes traveled up, up, until I was given another epiphany. The entirety of my stomach twisted into a vast knot, and I had to fight to keep the bile down. I let out a strangled whine. A part of my brain didn't believe that it was me that sounded like that. In my fright I had had my mind wiped of the most precious thing in the house, something far more irreplaceable than clocks and hair and skin and the roof that had been over my head, something that loved to paint and spent its every night in the loft. My tired feet ploughed into the hot ground and I propelled myself forward, my arms waving as one would expect an inexperienced swimmer to behave in the water. _

_ "DAD!" _

_ It was high, keening: absolutely unbelievable that that voice belonged to me. I couldn't force my way through the way I had come out—that path was blocked by flaming rafters—only looking at them produced enough heat to make my eyes burn and force me to turn away. I took another road, one through the bushes at the side of the house. I ignored the scrape of the skeletal branches against my bare skin and how they dug at my blistered shoulders. Dante was behind me, but I couldn't think about anything else except for one person. The front of the house was the real nightmare. Our tiny sanctuary that had so steadfastly stood around the center of the village with others leaped high and its wood groaned in the grasp of the fire. The size of it all seemed to be magnified horrifically. I screamed until my throat was hoarse and I was sure I would lose my voice forever. I tried pacing up the porch, but the front entrance collapsed before me and I had no choice but to step back like a crazed, caged animal and crane my head upwards to the porthole that had not disappeared in the firestorm. _

_ "Dad!" _

_ The tears didn't stop. I wailed the word until I forgot its meaning and could only connect it to a single image. It was like someone had lodged a cork down my throat when my bloodshot eyes caught sight of the one thing I had wanted and not wanted to see. The movement was one, swift and very, very brief, but it was there and it existed and it would forever be branded into my mind and my nightmares from there on in. A figure shrouded in blazing red and orange moved past the porthole in just a second; the arms were bent towards the head as if to clutch it. The skin of the figure was waxy white. There was nothing in sight after. The porthole's glass had shattered from the heat shortly after. I had been utterly silenced. Dante still paced and barked, but I didn't respond. I remember shielding my face and stepping back when the house folded in on itself like a card-castle and continued to burn. I couldn't do anything. I was deaf to the screams of others and the fragmented conversation about our village guide that took place yards away. I was blind to the person lying face-down before the path to Mt. Nibel. The only image I have of others besides myself during that time is a broad-shouldered silhouette outlined in black racing up the trail to the reactor at breakneck speed, something like urgency outlining its every movement. _

_ I would have never seen him otherwise: I had only turned to fall and empty my stomach of all its contents. _

--

_The sky was blood-red at the first hint of dawn, and the sun had not even appeared yet. All was ruins; everything was smoking, hissing. Dante sat by me in the aftermath, silently, vigilantly, until mom came lurching and staggering through the wreckage, stricken. Her brown eyes were swimming with tears, some of which had spilled over and streaked a relatively clean path down her ash-darkened cheeks. She was wordless for a good many minutes as we both looked towards the smoldering vestiges of what had been our life. We talked, I sank, she slapped me, I surfaced. For a while we sat together and attempted to figure out where to go from here. Our minds touched the idea of contacting Lily, but neither of us mentioned it. Instead, the unthinkable happened: she contacted us instead. A begrimed and filthy Mrs. Marge waded through the sea of splinters and embers, holding out the most ridiculous thing I had ever seen. Her son Max had recently become a city convert, and had returned a few months ago bearing gifts (for himself), and one of them was a cellphone. This was what Mrs. Marge was offering in her open palm, and the screen of the gadget was green, indicating a call. She scoffed one thing, disgusted, before walking away._

_ "It's for you."_

_ She dropped the thing in my hands, repulsed by it (or me?) and stalked off, not bothering to wipe her grubby glasses. It was the most unrelated and dissimilar thing I have ever done in my life: standing in the midst of the rubble of my village and receiving a call from my aunt on a stranger's phone at three in the morning. I half-believed it was a terrible prank as I lifted it and pressed it gingerly against my ear, as if I was expecting the phone to bite me. How could she have gotten this number…?_

_ "…Hello?" My voice was hoarse and uncertain._

_ "Sprout, listen." No hello. Very typical. "I want you to get out of there as soon as you can. Do you hear me?" Yes, I do, you monster. This is what it takes to make you call us? "Get _out_ of there as _soon as you can_." She took a deep breath. "You'll see some ShinRa operatives around, along with some guys in suits. Avoid them. Keep away from them. Don't let them see you under any circumstances. If they ask you any questions, you were stuck in the village overnight. Come to Midgar. Ring me when you arrive." The line went dead. No goodbye. Also very typical. _

_ And because of this pleasant interlude, our exit from Nibelheim was closer to an escape than a departure. I relayed the message to my wearied parent. She sent a heartrending look towards what was left of the house and then scrutinized me from top to bottom carefully, finally moving her gaze to Dante. Her face split into an exhausted smile which didn't reach her eyes. She reached for me and grasped my arm softly. "Time to go now." I hid the alarm her words caused. I would have been more at ease if she had burst into torrents of tears and I wouldn't have been able to lift her from the ground for the sobbing. In uncomplicated gestures, she led me through the maze of destroyed houses as if I were a child learning how to walk; Dante trotted after, not making a sound. I tried to focus on my bare feet as I trod on. After catching one, two, three glimpses of dark limbs and charred silhouettes, I glued my stare to the ground and refused to lift it unless I needed to. _

_ We spent the rest of our time crawling carefully behind the larger pieces of debris and hiding behind them when we noticed the ShinRa workers moving past us. We had been crouching behind the uplifted, burnt rafters of the inn when we saw a pair of infantrymen make their way about prising and dragging a groaning, half-dead, heavily wounded man from out of a pile of rubble and place him on a stretcher. One of them had wrinkled his nose in distaste—that was one expression that could not hidden by their pervasive, three-eyed masks. _

_ "Is this the last one?"_

_ "The professor said he needed at least twenty."_

_ "Why the hell do we get stuck with all the dirty work…?"_

_ "Shut up before someone hears you and keep hauling. If we get a few more it should be alright. Heard that Joel found two up by the old mansion."_

_ "Ugh. I've lost my appetite."_

_ "I said to shut up, didn't I?" _

_ Neither of us had known what they possibly wanted these people for, but we did not stay to discover. Mom grabbed me by the hand, her eyes wide and frightened, reminding me of a rabbit as she all but yanked me the remainder of the way to the clunky car we owned. She had almost driven off without Dante, but at my cry of disapproval, she hastily opened a door and he jumped on me, squashing every bit of smoky oxygen out of my lungs as he made room for himself instead of taking some from the back seat. Mom didn't even hesitate in turning on the engine: she turned the ignition so hard I was afraid that the key was going to snap. She slammed her foot down on the pedal and the car gave a lurch. Fifteen minutes of high-speed driving later, we were clearing the coastline and making our way towards Midgar, and I realized I didn't know the way; the familiar surroundings passed me by in a blur. I zoned in and out as we continued on our way. To this day, I still can't remember parts of the journey—although I remember getting out of the car and leaving it behind, I can't remember the people staring at me on the ferry, though apparently they did so. By the time we reached the "other end" of the world, I was seeing spots and could barely stand. I was starved and burned, barefoot and miserable, and had been so for many hours. The first stop we made had been to the hospital._

_ Mom pulled out a few spare gil from the wallet she had taken out of her purse (snatched from the car) and paid a taxi to drive us as fast as possible to the nearest clinic; I can still see the man's horrified face as mom practically folded me into the taxi like a piece of fragile paper. He nearly took off down the street before mom sat beside me. After that, I can't really recall anything else except a few scattered things: the opening of the car door, mom's scent, altered by the smoke, near my face, and Dante riding shotgun in the taxi since my mom didn't want him in the backseat with me; the almost cruel gleam of the sun on the glass windows of the hospital, the faded buzz of conversations around me. I fell asleep, exhausted of all energy and emotion, and the next time I awoke I was hooked up to an IV and still just as done in as I had been when I was last awake. The first opening of my eyes was accompanied by silence; I closed them and when I opened them again, I could hear fragmented discussions of mom's "conversation" with what I guessed was the doctor overseeing me. _

_ "Your daughter could have died, Mrs. Browne. There are perfectly good hospitals in the Gold Saucer Area—you could have even had her transported to the Cosmo Canyon facility. Was there any reason that you had to drag her on a trip that could last well over five hours to get her to Midgar?"_

_ "The reasons are for me to know, doctor. I—"_

_ "What would have happened if any of her burns had been infected? It was probably through sheer luck that she didn't contract anything through those poorly wrapped feet of hers."_

_ "I did all I could…!"_

_ "Apparently not. You should be greatly thankful that the pieces of fabric stuck to her back did not need much to remove. If she had died—"_

_ "She would not die!"_

_ "—you would have been responsible for her murder."_

_ "And you have no idea what we've just come out of!" I remember squinting, for mom's voice had broken, and I hated the sound of her close to crying. "I would appreciate it if you did not talk down to me when you know_ nothing_."_

_ I slipped into lethargy again, failing to notice my viciously short hair. _

_ The second instance of lucidity had the addition of the voice I had heard not over a few hours ago, speaking to me through a phone that wasn't mine. A little more control had been given to my mercilessly immobile hands, and I had been absolutely elated that I wasn't high on painkillers and that I could actually wiggle my fingers (disregarding the horrible ache that came with that movement). _

_ "Lily, we can't move her. The doctor said that she needs to be in here for at least two weeks," was my mother's hushed comment._

_ "You think I really give a shit?" Lily's voice lowered to a feverish whisper after that rather inappropriate outburst. "There are people who can't know that she's out of Nibelheim." She paused, and then seemed to realize something. "Her right arm's intact, isn't it?"_

_ Mom nearly hissed at her sister. "Of course it is! Every part of her is intact. Why do you care?"_

_ "It's none of your business," replied that familiar sneer. "Where's that _dog_ of hers…?"_

_ "He's being taken care of just fine."_

_ "Damn, and I hoped we'd be rid of him."_

_ "_Lily_! Have a care."_

_ "Speaking of getting rid of—where's Drilan? Inside?"_

_ Silence filtered through the air, reaching me through the half-open door and the darkening room. This time, I closed my eyes willingly. I had never harbored this amount of revulsion towards my aunt, and I was in no position to deal with it. _

--

Hunger, discomfort, dryness and general blah were some of the first things I registered. I felt like one of those cartoon sardines with the Xs over their eyes. Yes. That bad, that exaggerated. My eyes opened to the leniently dim room I last remembered being in; I took in the sight of the curved ceiling and looked to my right, meeting my vision with the sight of a large window that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, almost like a bauble of transparency that encased a good fourth of the room. My eyes trailed closer and closer to where I was lying in the soft, soft bed (I may as well have cried in happiness if my eyes weren't so freaking _dry_), until I saw a hand on the white bedspread and realized that Lily had fallen asleep by my side. She was face down in the comforter, apparently not suffocating herself. I did not want to wake her.

My gaze drifted right once more, and suddenly I was aware that the surroundings beyond the window weren't exactly familiar. There was sand…and water; lots of it, moving away into the brightening horizon. The last time I had seen a shore, it had been in passing a small inlet on a trip that was no joyride. A thin sliver of sunlight peeked over what seemed to be the flat surface of the water, striking it and turning it azure. Who would have known that this entire hullabaloo would have garnered a free trip to Costa del Sol? I nearly chuckled at the thought, but took a while to reconsider the idea since my throat was feeling drier than the sand lining the seashore. Well, sick or not, I was going to have to get out of bed some time. I carefully lifted the covers from myself and swung my legs over the side of the bed, trying not to pay too much attention to the wave of dizziness that assaulted me. There was nothing really wrong—it was just that sensation of being ill—how when you try and lift yourself out of bed you get unbalanced because you had a fever. No matter that I hated it; it was not fatal. And as long as things aren't fatal, chances are you can learn to deal with them.

The first step I made was less than graceful. I had to support myself on the nightstand and in the process I made a rather large thump when I stepped onto the carpet (yes, it was even heard through the carpet). Lily stirred in her sleeping position, and I promised myself I would curse this body if she woke up. That had been just as smooth as ton of sandpaper. Exhaling quietly when I saw that nothing else indicated her return to the world of the living, I reached for the robe draped over the chair next to the door and slipped it onto my shoulders. In doing so, I did a double take. Since when did I take to wearing _nightgowns_? A part of me fully well knew that I had to be changed out of my—Lan's—clothing since the outfit was soaked and I had been sick. But the other part, which Lily usually didn't get along with, was screaming in protest. Lily had ninety percent of getting an earful when she woke up… and when I was feeling like it. At the moment I just wanted a walk. I had had weird dreams when I was asleep, and way too much time on my hands to remember.

With a wince and a grit of the teeth, I tied the sash of the robe around my waist and slipped my feet into the conveniently placed slippers (they looked like the ones you get in the hotels—freebie slippers!) at the side of the bed and made my way towards the door, my pace painstakingly slow. My feet shuffled across the carpeted floor, making indentations in it as I took my merry time in getting to the door. I hated feeling so fatigued and utterly drained, but it was a very cheap price to pay for the ability to get up from bed. In truth, I felt shittier than I had in a while, what with my stomach churning, torn between (_extreme, utter_) starvation and digesting me instead and the nausea crawling up its walls. Sure, my head gave me the sensation that I was on a first-class seat in the Vomit Comet, but at the moment I was more preoccupied with getting out of the room and successfully making a beeline to the kitchen—if there was one. And considering that I _did _make it to the hypothetically-existing-kitchen, would anyone notice me? I hoped not. Unless everyone on the Shera had magically turned into very early-risers, then there'd be nobody up.

Well, dear whoever it may concern, I'm pleased to inform you that I did not fall down and smash my face in. I actually progressed to the kitchen, which did exist, and got my hands on two slices of bread. I stuffed another two slices of turkey cold cuts between _them_ and called it a sandwich. I nibbled at it until nothing was left and the dawn was obvious through the large windows of the Shera. I was sitting at the table in the middle of the kitchen, happily perched on one of the high chairs that surrounded it. For an airship, the Shera was very well furnished—I could see why Cid had absolutely no problem bouncing from one end of the Planet to the other on his ship; it was basically a floating house. The dark wood which most of the said furniture and kitchen cupboards were made of just served to make it more attractive. I was about the fall asleep on my hands when I heard light footfalls upon the wooden floor. Perhaps I could ask whoever it was why the heck we were stationed in a place like Costa del Sol. But who could it be at this hour…?

I turned.


	23. Soup & Catharsis

Once there was an Authoro Peculiarius, who disappeared from the internet universe because a lot of personal problems decided to fall on its head in one go. Its habitat is still going down the damn drain, but it writes anyway, and comes with thanks for all that put up with it, especially the encouraging pioneers **Fighter le Faye**,** R. R e e v es**,** Janika, OrisounAsh **and **Angeburger**. It thanks them and gives this chapter as a peace offering.

(It also apologizes for the changes in genre, but says not to worry because it's a sucker for romance and has got the pairings all worked out. In addition, it really apologizes for the ungodly delay.)

**P.S.** Watch Ergo Proxy. Just do it. (Play Dragon Age, too).

* * *

_**Chapter 23**_

I _did _turn, but saw nothing. Blinking in confusion, I was just about three-fourths convinced that the starvation and the sickness had finally gotten to me. I was making the long-awaited entrance into Bonkers Land. It would be neither surprising nor shocking. But despite the resigned wambling of my stomach (I had force-fed it, after all) and the headache of gigantic proportions in my possession, I could've sworn that I actually heard footsteps. In fact, I could also attest that the footsteps had a light clink to them. Sort of like the sound you get when there's a chink in metal and the two pieces bounce off of each other. _If didn't know any better_, I mused, turning around to my original position, _I would say that_—

"…You are awake." All that met my vision was a mix of black and red.

It took all my self-control not to jump up from the chair, scream myself silly and stop myself from lashing out. There was, however, a drawback, since I sucked in a huge breath (a preparation for the never-to-be-scream) and that irritated my already unkind throat.

As a result, I gave one great hacking cough before attempting to silence it—and God, I could feel the muscles all around my ribs and my abdomen clench with each jerk. I had forgotten what it was like to be sore all over from a cough, and I think that Fate decided it was high time for me to remember. I kept it hushed, though, because I doubted that anyone else was up, and I knew that my overblown choking was enough to wake people. Especially people as sensitive as my aunt. Scratch the sleeping dogs: I say let sleeping ogres lie. They're much more peaceful that way.

My gaze moved upward to meet a fairly startling crimson one. The relief I felt at the obvious detail that this was no person that planned to hoist me off to some strange cavern in the middle of Wutai wilderness made my shoulders relax; the breath I had been holding left my lungs slowly. I couldn't say that I felt completely and utterly comfortable being alone in the kitchen with a person who I knew near to nothing about, but truth be told, I was glad for the company.

"An astute remark," I said, my voice coming out in a croak. "I think I've had more rest that I can bear." In reality, I'd had more than enough of reminiscence and weird dreams, but I wasn't about to say that out loud. Rest seemed very, very welcoming at the moment, either way. "And what brings you here?"

Vincent Valentine appraised me for an instant before moving on with a quiet reply. He was standing before me (which had previously been behind me), arms crossed and half-concealed by that moth-eaten cloak. I couldn't see his mouth move as he spoke, since the collar of the same cloak obscured it from view. The single giveaway that he was speaking was, obviously, his voice. "A lack of sleep." I guessed he didn't answer my type of questions very often. The crimson eyes flickered sideways. "…It is very early."

I glanced at the window. It was true: only the first traces of dawn were creeping above the sill, though more than a few rays of the eager sun had peeked over the horizon. Maybe the guy had a thing for observations. The question I had thought of a few minutes ago popped back into my head, so I decided to voice it. I had a feeling that the conversation would be dead otherwise. "Why are we in Costa del Sol?"

"The Shera needs fuel. It was already half-depleted when it took off from Wutai."

"And I guess we have to wait a while until we can get the gas." I supposed that the silent look I got was a 'yes.' Feeling uncomfortable, I lowered my stare and directed it somewhere else, though I didn't really know what to look at. I scanned over my feet, covered in their fluffy freebie slippers, my hands, the right one which was bandaged up until the wrist, and the darkwood floor of the airship. I could feel the linen around my neck, and nearly shuddered at the memory of the paper-thin needles whizzing past my shoulders in flashes of silver. After a bit of stillness, during which I was aware of being stared at, I let out a small sigh and propped my chin up on my good hand.

"Do I have something on my face, or what?" That might have come out a teensy bit more snappish than intended.

"Your neck."

My neck what? _That_ can't be on my face. And if it is and I can't feel it, I've got a serious malfunction going on. Now perplexed, I sat up and pressed fingers against the side of my throat, shocked when they came away coated in a thin sheen of scarlet. "Aw, shit." The cut beneath the protective layers of bandages had pulled sometime and now it was bleeding all over again. That meant that I needed more bandages, which in turn meant I needed to _get up_ again—I had spied a first-aid kit on the nightstand next to the sleeping Lily. My brain only did more rounds into despair as what I had to do sunk in. If I didn't want to bleed all over the counter and the stupid nightgown, which was conveniently a virginal white, I'd have to risk waking the ogre to get to the bindings and something that'd stop the minor hemorrhage.

I got off of the chair, careful of the unsteadiness that accompanied in the action. Just because I was in the kitchen with another person made me triply determined not to look stupid. Further reasons for not looking brainless were wearing this _stupid_ nightgown. The fluttery, floppy garment made me feel supremely insecure and out of my comfort zone. I'd never been one for dresses or skirts, and had spent almost the entirety of my childhood in overalls, pants or variations upon those, hence the feeling of mind-crushing doom that settled upon me the minute I realized I was wearing one of the dreaded nightclothes that Mom had recommended and tried so hard to get me used to. I had the strongest urge to wrap myself up in the robe and tie it around my waist as far as the sash would go. But because I'm not a fan of suffocation, I went against that course of action and instead focused on getting to the door of the bedroom I had been in without significantly causing other injuries.

Thankfully, I made it to the door with no upheavals or other upsets in balance. I held my breath as I cracked it open minimally and peered inside. Lily hadn't moved from her face-down position on the bed, and that made me a little more assured of how I was going to get to the kit to her left.

I padded in as quietly as I could, trying to ignore the way the cream colored carpet made dizzying dips and dents in my vision; it seemed that the fever was resolute on not letting me escape its aftermath. Nonetheless, I walked up to the unmade bed and then opted for going behind Lily to nab the stuff. I was standing above my aunt, behind the chair she was sitting on and bending over to hook my bandaged fingers through the plastic handle of the kit when the she shifted her position and twitched her nose in reaction to a long strand of my cursedly loose hair tickling her face.

Frozen in my uncomfortable position, I prayed hard that she wouldn't wake up and find me hovering over her. What could happen afterward was a scenario that I would much rather not discover. What she did was nevertheless surprising, and it made a frown furrow so deep between my eyebrows that I thought I wouldn't have any forehead left by the end of it.

"Mm. Lewis, stop it," she mumbled into the bedspread, a slightly dim-witted smile appearing on her features. The way she said held a familiarity, kind of like when you want to ward of your mom from bludgeoning you awake with a pillow and you ask her for those dreaded five minutes more. Okay, admittedly it didn't have the same hostile qualities, but it was still—oh, I don't know—still very intimate, I suppose. It didn't help that she had this almost dumb grin on, and even though she was asleep it was very evident from her expression that she was having a most vivid dream.

"Not the pig…! No, I do like Banora White." My left hand came to the rescue and pulled away the hair strand responsible away from its dangerous position and I tucked it behind my ear as she continued to murmur. "Pass the gravy."

To prevent any more mishaps, I settled for pulling _all _my hair over my right shoulder (and that's a good amount).

I collected my first-aid kit, but I also gained some fairly juicy blackmail material to use against ogress extraordinaire later on. Someday in the future she's going to regret sleep-talking in my presence very dearly. Lily was not only a privacy freak, she was exceptionally particular about her personal life: this made any information that I got about her as a person very, very valuable. Mom couldn't testify for her whereabouts and her actions for a span of more than just a few years after she left Nibelheim, and they're sisters that shared a cramped room until Mom was fourteen.

There are few things that can be kept classified and under lock and key in such proximity. Mom had told me once that she remembered that Lily hadn't personalized her side of the room at all—that it was just the bare necessities. She had had her bed, her desk, and her wall; very unlike Mom, who had been more than happy to tell me and describe every inch of her wall and how exactly she had decorated it over time.

I backed away warily, taking the kit with me, my left hand holding up the bandages to my cut. It had pretty much run itself dry, and all I needed now was a whopper of a band-aid. I laid the kit on the bed and opened it noiselessly, taking in the contents of the box. Hydrogen peroxide, rolls of bandages, povidone-iodine, balls of cotton in a nifty box, forceps (what next, scalpels?), a spare thermometer, painkillers, an ice pack… Good gosh, there had been a lot of things in there. After rifling through the three separate layers for about a minute or so, holding my breath all the while because Lily was persisting in keeping up a dialogue with her dream pig, I found what I was seeking. I nearly gave a victorious 'Ah _ha_!' as I drew the plaster out, but didn't do so because I had no voice to do it with and I had a sleeping ogre to avoid.

With a flourish, I unraveled the bandages from my neck and nearly cursed when that little connector doohickey caught on the skin of my left palm with its mini-fangs. Convinced that it was no longer bleeding, I shut the kit, gathered the bandages, and sidled my stealthy path to the door. I was three seconds away from salvation when a half-muffled call halted me with my back to the room.

"Shtop!"

I did so.

"…Do you sell butter dishes?" There was a pause, and then, in the most dejected tone I have heard her use, my aunt asked the bedspread, "Why not?" I heard her breathing even out again, and nearly lost it when I imagined what she must be dreaming of.

The door swung open soundlessly under my hand and after I closed it I leaned back against it, allowing myself a wayward chuckle, which died in my throat due to dryness. I deflated, however, when the stinging in my neck didn't stop and Mr. Throat continued to misbehave.

Stepping out tentatively, I explored the as-of-yet-unknown part of the Shera, and was successful in finding a bathroom. I had a bit of trouble taking off the bandages, but I managed to stop the bleeding and replace them without strangling myself. I looked in the mirror, straightening the robe whilst the blush of embarrassment at my clumsy fingers died down. Mission accomplished, sans fatal self-injury. I practically felt whatever was left of my self-esteem and happiness slip down the drain as I stared at my reflection.

I didn't really recognize the woman returning my gaze. It had been a while since I'd done a good long observation of myself, and now I was suddenly aware of the effect that worrying had upon me. I think the part I was most disturbed by were my eyes. I had the appearance of one who was relatively healthy—not in prime shape but not sagging with sloth, either; my eyes, though, didn't seem to fit or really match with my face.

They were larger than I remembered, and they looked like they best belonged on a person gaunt with a hunger of something lost and almost forgotten. The thought made me want to tremble. I always had considered my eyes creepy: their green shade seemed close to unnatural in my rare and harshly critical inspections of my appearance, when they occurred, and the flakes of lighter hues in them just made me dislike them even more. I often wondered why I couldn't have inherited Dad's inconspicuous colors of black and brown, and why I had had my maternal grandmother's coloring shoved on me instead. Genes weren't my best of friends in my youth. Still, for all my internal griping, I neither moved to dye my hair or alter it. Call me a hypocrite, if you will.

I felt an unpleasant feeling welling up in me the longer I looked into the mirror, and I watched as my lips turned down in a nearly comical frown; I caught sight of a scar that I had temporarily forgotten due to its tiny size—it's nothing more than a hair-thin, white line that's at the right edge of my bottom lip. I'd acquired the little bastard when a very stupid thirteen-year-old me had rushed in front of the gate to the local chocobo paddock, unnoticing that it was about to swing open.

One of the protruding ends from the chicken-wire in the middle, bent out of shape, had caught my lip as the gate made a half-circle and sent me to hell and back from the pain. Mom had marveled at my horrific ability to seemingly hurt myself wherever I went, and had not been merciful when she disinfected the cut. I hadn't been particularly dismayed when the scab fell off a week or two later and I was left with a milky scar: in fact, I'd been something close to proud. Of course, it further increased my reputation as an amoral and lawless barbarian amongst the girls at school, and had given me many great laughs.

I found it impossible to look at the woman in the mirror any longer, so I turned my back on it and her, and exited the bathroom with my stomach churning with bitter hate for the image I'd seen.

I resolved not to look into mirrors if I could help it.

* * *

Costa del Sol was, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It was the paradise that those brochures gushed about, complete with the pearly white sand and the gently lapping turquoise waters.

I might have been more appreciative of the sight of the beach if I didn't have an ogress breathing down my neck. I don't know, I'm just saying. Lily had awoken in a flurry of a mixture of panic and misplaced worry. I had _heard_ her wake up. Courtesy of the Shera's wooden floor, really, otherwise I wouldn't have known that Lady Cannonball had already rocketed herself out of position and was, rather disturbingly, coming to get me.

Vincent Valentine had stood by in scarlet contemplation (maybe I was just imagining the questioning quirk of his eyebrow) as Lily had proceeded to shake me by the shoulders—hello, _injured and ill person here!_—and ask me, "What the fuck were you thinking, you brat?" apparently having completely forgotten that it hadn't exactly been on my wish-list to be violently abducted. I wondered for a while after the Grand Shaking if Vincent hadn't picked up on my "GOOD GOD SAVE ME" vibes.

So, against my will, I had been fed _again_ and given a shifty looking pill, and then I had been bundled up (as if things could get any worse) and plonked on the bench out on the Shera's deck. Cid had landed the airship in a remote beach, which, surprisingly, was not populated, save for a rather shady-looking shack in the distance. Downside to the untamed tropical beauty was that it would take twice the time for the ordered gas to get here, but I seriously was not complaining. I had too much to think about, and I barely registered events as everyone on the ship woke up, had breakfast, and set about their own businesses; in fact, I didn't really even realize that Yuffie had sat down next to me because I was neck-deep in my own thoughts.

"_Hand me the angled brush, Chloe. No, that's not it. Nope. One over—next to it. Yeah, that's it. Here, see, look what it does. Isn't that a nice effect?_"

It had been a nice effect. You could touch the canvas weeks after and see where the stroke had been placed.

"Chllooooee~!"

I blinked, snapping out of my daze and turning my head to the right. I was met with a wide grin and a happy ninja.

"Oh, sorry. Yeah?"

"You feeling better now?"

I nodded, deciding that it was at least, half-true. I felt better physically, but my brain had another few censored things to say about my emotional state. "Thanks. For everything, I mean. You didn't have to come and get me." You could have abandoned me to rot, I added silently, waiting with surprising apprehension for her reaction. What I got was a laugh and a nudge on the shoulder.

"What would we have done, left you there? We're friends, aren't we? And that's what friends do."

The response left me with a sensation of warmth, one that I hadn't felt in a while. Truth be told, I never had very many friends (Bernie does_ not_ count) to speak of, and I had more than my fair share of insecurities when it came to others. I hadn't the slightest idea as to how I had been accepted into their company. Your guess is as good as mine, I suppose.

My mind wandered in circles after that, phasing in and out of reality like a radio on a changing-frequency-frenzy. In the moments that I wasn't thinking about Dante and what would happen when I finally got my ass home, Yuffie's words suddenly turned from _blahblahblah_ into _materia!_ and_ treasure!_, and when my brain realized that it had nothing to glean except some very shiny images from the kunoichi's monologue, it went back to meandering along the path of PityMe, which is a rather prominent avenue in the city of BooHoo.

I must've dropped off, because when I opened my eyes again, the blanket that had been on my lap had been pulled up to my arms and Yuffie was gone. I was alone on the deck-slash-balcony with only a jaw-dropping beach to look at. Good enough for me.

I yawned, stretched, and then clutched at the blanket, trying to pretend it was a large, black dog that had a habit of smothering me in his slobber. Not the pleasantest image I've got of Dante, but it was one of the major ones; second in the line of association is doggy breath, but I think that after living with it for more than a few years, you get used to it at some point.

It was quite warm outside, despite the cool breeze that puffed past every minute or so, and that brought me to the conclusion that the atmosphere was stupendously comfortable. So far, the only inhabitants I had spotted with my trusty sleepy eye were a few seagulls marching here and paddling through the calm water there, and they all looked so dour and cranky they might as well have been sucking on a sour lemon for an eon. The air carried a tinge of salt to it, and the soothing ambience of lapping waves was all it took to make me drowsy. Again.

How long had it been since I had sat—by myself—in utter silence? No chatter, no anxiety (well, none that I was acknowledging) and no human interaction? It was the closest I had been to relaxation for a while, and I was glad for it.

Well, that is, until a splotch of marvelously stinky seagull droppings appeared on the pristine sand beyond the railing of the deck. The one seagull in Costa del Sol that ate some bad fish had to spontaneously decide to defecate yards before my feet.

No, no, thank _you_, Life. I insist.

* * *

About two hours, another nap, and much pacing on the part of Cid later, the gas arrived. I sure was glad that I wasn't one of the two guys who delivered it. The Shera's pilot was not a happy man, considering that the gas had arrived a bit later than anticipated; I understood the anxiety of wanting to get back. It didn't feel all that great that there were two pieces of Jenova spawn still rocking the world out there, but it felt even less great when I thought what could happen when Rob-booby got his hands on them.

The sun was nearly at its zenith when I heard Cid literally blowing his top at the two deliverymen: the breeze wafted a fraction of the hair-raising language my way, and I was relieved at not being on its receiving end. If I'd been closer I might have even caught sight of the steam that was no doubt hissing from the pilot's ears. _Apparently_, the gas they had brought was the wrong type and wouldn't run in the airship's tank. Something about kinds of tanks and metals and reactives. I hadn't a clue.

I surmised that the worse that could happen was have the entire Shera blow up, but my brain wasn't working well so it was untrustworthy. Besides, I'd had one too many trips into oblivion in the past twenty-four hours, and I would have liked to abstain from them until I was allowed to indulge in said oblivion in the safety of my very own bed. I listened to Cid cussing out the unfortunate deliverymen for another minute or so, and then they probably had enough because they ran away (well, it looked like they did), leaving behind only some very picturesque and cartoony dust-clouds behind them.

In the next quarter of an hour, I had an impressive and drawn-out staring contest with a mulish seagull, who dared to perch on the railing and meet me eye-to-eye. It just _sat_ there, eying me like I was the one with a feather sticking up out of my hair.

"Uh…Chloe? What are you doing?"

I didn't even look at Yuffie when she asked. "Getting rid of a pest."

"If you say so. I'm gonna go explore some of the beach—my brains'll leak out of my ears if stay here any longer. Tifa's with Cloud if you want something, 'kay?"

Seagull blinked at me slowly, still unmoving. If he had an eyebrow he'd have raised it, I'm sure.

"Thanks, Yuffie. I'll just stick around here."

She bounced off as I remained in my seat. Eventually, Seagull decided he had had enough, so he snapped his beak and fluffed his plumage, gave a hoarse cry and jumped onto the deck of the Shera with a muted thump. My eyes narrowed automatically. The bird continued to stare, so I whipped out my intimidating voice.

"How dare you, lowly avian peasant, alight on the dominion of the Blanket Queen?"

Seagull just sniffed at me petulantly and settled himself better. He was reveling in the fact that I was too tired (read: lazy) to get up from the bench.

It was at that moment that my eyes decided to enlighten me to the presence hovering behind the doors leading to the deck-slash-balcony. I was immediately glad for my poker-face; because if I didn't have it, I'm sure that I would have gone red enough to pass as bioluminescent. Or, at least, red enough to match Vincent's cloak. The poor man looked like he was seriously questioning my sanity, and I didn't blame him, either. The sickness and the dreams had done a funky number on me, as if the weird thoughts and mood-swings weren't proof enough. I shifted the blanket around in my hands and gave a small sigh, glancing at Seagull. Damn bird looked smug.

"Sorry that you had to witness that."

There was a small pause. "Why are you apologizing?"

"Well…" I gave a nervous laugh and tilted my head. "It's a little awkward to have someone catch you scolding a bird."

No, that wasn't what was _really_ awkward. What was awkward was the silence that followed. I could practically feel my internal organs displacing and squirming because of it. After a few minutes of it—Vincent standing there and Seagull staring at me—I just gave in. I patted the bench and spoke. "Come and sit. You standing there makes me think you're getting ready to run." That was a possibility, I thought, if the person you'd gone through a fair amount of trouble to find and rescue ended up being the type of girl who might have had more than just a screw loose. He came a bit closer, but he didn't take a seat, which was absolutely fine. At least he wasn't standing in the furthermost reaches of my peripheral vision, where it was rather creepy to be.

And though he didn't really get any closer than that, and there wasn't much of a conversation to write home about, it was one of the more amiable things I had done lately. It took approximately fifteen minutes for me to continue glowering at Seagull, realize that Vincent's eyes were a very clear blood-red at this type of distance, and fall asleep again. I bet Seagull was happy that he didn't have to stare at my ugly mug any longer.

* * *

Robert Samuel Prescott was not a happy man. He wasn't a happy man in general, but at this point in time, the unhappiness reached new levels of malice and spite. Truth be told, he looked rather scary there, bathed in the light of the numerous monitors surrounding him. The flashing information on their screens was more worthless than the random gunk his favorite boots picked up on the street.

He felt like it was all too possible that the entire operation would end in failure – and he did not relish the prospect of coming face-to-face with his displeased superior if that happened. Whereas he was not a happy man, his superior was one of quick temper, not at all perturbed with giving orders to end so-and-so's life on the basis of one shortcoming. That seemed to be a trait in these business tycoons nowadays. _Pricks, the lotta them_, he thought nastily, though he knew he enjoyed his own so-called authority over his subordinates as much (or even more) than the Mr. Boss sitting in a leather chair back at Prisma HQ.

"…Sir?"

Oh. He looked up, eyes slightly unfocused. It was that reedy, bony mess of a young man with the weak face. Colin Mulvey, or something like that – a wimp, in colloquial terms. He'd have to speculate further as to how to get rid of this one. Mr. Mulvey was far too annoying for his own good, and he couldn't even get the other men in the unit to fear him. Robert wondered who'd put him up for the job. Perhaps his father. Robert could perfectly picture a big-eyed Colin cowering in a corner with the father standing over him, rolled newspaper in hand. Didn't take much more than that to intimidate the washouts that'd sprung up all over the place. Unfortunately, Robert had to break away from his comical imaginings to listen to what the timid Mr. Mulvey was offering him in terms of updates.

"S-Sir?"

"I'm listening," was the growled answer.

Colin stifled the eep that threatened to break through his thin lips and tried not to let the papers slip from his hands. "U-uh, there's new intel on the moving targets, sir."

Yes, he guessed as much. Come on, Colin – "Get on with it!"

"Sir! Um – they're heading northwards. The black one doesn't seem to have s-sustained any damage, and the second one ha-has recovered from… from its wounds."

"And our patients?"

It took a moment for Colin to realize that he was referring to the men injured in the attempt to capture the specimens. "…Uh. Brock is stable, sir, and… Mr. Lowitz died on the operating table. Everyone e-else is doing j-just fine."

Robert was glad for a fleeting instant that Colin did not stutter on his 'f's. It would be _that_ much harder to deal with him if he did, you know, with the spit flying everywhere and whatnot. Then again, he supposed he should've been grateful for the fact that Colin even knew how to operate a gun.

"Dismissed."

"Y-yes, sir!"

Mr. Mulvey stumbled on his way out, foot catching somehow. Robert watched him acquaint himself with the floor before the door swung shut behind him, but Robert's mind was far too occupied with thoughts of competition and bullying to be too distracted. The specimens were moving, were they?

With the equipment in his possession, he knew that could make a good bet and win it, too. If he was careful about this, he could almost guarantee the capture of the specimens. That, however, would be no fun if he had no contesting forces. It was a bad habit of his, this antagonism, but when he got caught up in it, he became far too engrossed to notice his mistakes. Robert knew very well that Lily had that ex-terrorist group on her list of contacts. She'd called them over to help rescue that sniveling brat of hers, and no doubt she'd make them trail along if she knew where the specimens were. Boss hated them particularly, and though he didn't know the reason why, that dislike was his one-way ticket to a higher position on the dog-pile.

Getting Boss' approval and crushing AVALANCHE, too? It was almost too good to be true. Robert laughed light-heartedly to his empty room and stood. He'd be needing the Press right about now, because no adventure was ever worth it without sensationalistic news spreading like wildfire. What perfect bait. Lily wouldn't be able to resist.

Maybe this wouldn't be a failure after all.

* * *

The Shera's slight rocking motion and the lowering light were almost enough to send me off into sleep _again_. Almost. And for the umpteenth time. I felt quite ridiculous at the prospect of sleeping any more, so I was doing my darndest not to let my eyes close. At whatever cost, I couldn't let myself slip off again.

What would I be doing when I got home? Sometime in the middle of the takeoff, I had migrated from the outer deck to the inside bench just next to the windows, with my back to the half-kitchen-half-living-room. I needed to ask Lily what was in that pill that she had given me, and warn her against me taking it again. If that was what was causing the constant dropping in and out of sleep, I wasn't going to take it any longer, illness or no.

I felt the surface of the couch sink when someone sat down next to me. I looked up to see Lily in a rather classic portrait of hers: hair tied back loosely, eyes disinterested and cigarette hanging between her lips. I had a very strong desire to pluck the cigarette away and stick it between her eyes.

A ripple of goosebumps raised themselves on my shoulders and hands as I watched her inhale and the tiny embers on the end of the cigarette glowed a fiery orange. My mouth went dry when she sucked in another breath and the embers came pulsing back to life, and I decided to look away before I couldn't take it anymore. I noted to myself that I needed to find out one of Lily's deepest, darkest fears and flaunt it in her face. Daily.

"So," she said, leaning back, "Sprout. How are you?"

I dearly hoped my stare sufficiently conveyed my best you-are-off-your-rocker expression. "How can I be? Tired. Sleepy. Nauseous."

"Do you know what you'll be doing when we get home?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Hopefully getting into bed and staying there with a nice bowl of hot soup and a good book. Preferably sans your presence."

"You wound me," Lily remarked flatly, looking completely undisturbed. "Unlike you, I know exactly what you'll be doing when you get home."

"Oh? You've taken it on yourself to know?"

"Since you seem to have the penchant for running off and getting yourself into shit that I don't want to dig up again, you won't be leaving my sight for _one minute_." Her eyes were a fierce blue, snapping with a temper I hadn't seen in a while. With a sort of funny feeling in my stomach, I realized she was furious. "You won't so much as suck in oxygen, eat, or sleep without me watching. And wherever I go, you follow. No questions asked."

A burble of laughter escaped me before I could help it. "Do I look like a baby to you? Let's not forget that it's primarily _your_ fault that I've got God knows how many cutthroats after me! Don't even try to tell me that this is over! Sure, that vault's been opened, but how do I know about anything you haven't told me? Because I am sure – _sure_ – that there are things you're still hiding from me."

"Very touching, Sprout, but not nearly enough dramatic," she said, extinguishing her cigarette on an ashtray that she had carried with her. "You're not talking me out of this one."

"Why can't you just let me _breathe_?" There was a telltale scratchiness in my throat that definitely wasn't from being sick. "You're… unbelievable."

Lily gave me a hard look, and then scoffed. "At least I can reason with Connie. Your mother listens, you know, even if she cries about it. Sometimes I think you're a lost cause. Just like that failure of a father of yours."

It took me a moment to actually understand that she had resorted to the type of lowness only she could achieve. The burning fury started in my gut and worked its way up, until I noticed that I had lifted my arm to backhand her. She was watching me coolly, obviously expecting me to retaliate. I wouldn't give her that pleasure. My hand dropped away as I gritted my teeth hard enough to break them. She at least had the decency to look surprised. My shoulders were trembling. I tried to stop the shaking but failed. I couldn't find room in my mind for anything but anger. I had to control myself.

"Insult him again," I said slowly, "and I'll rip your tongue out." I hope she realized I was wholly serious. "You know… it was people like you who started the fire. At first I thought I hated that SOLDIER for what he did. I was wrong. It's your type of people that drove him crazy." I didn't know and didn't care if she understood what I was talking about. "Stay away from me."

I got to my feet despite the irritating wobble in my legs and walked resolutely towards the guest room that I had so graciously been offered. Part of me was writhing in embarrassment that all the people who were present in the kitchen had had to witness that ugly interaction, but I also felt somewhat relieved.

Cloud, who was sitting at the table and looking a bit green around the gills, was very polite in the fact that he did not acknowledge that anything earth-shattering had occurred. Yuffie was not quite so discreet, as she peered at me from the corners of her eyes, obviously curious despite the discomfort caused by the swaying airship. I didn't mind. I thought I might even feel okay about telling her. Tifa was apologetic, and it was obvious in her gaze and stance. Again, I didn't mind. I was just glad for the support. Vincent spared me a tiny look that said a million things, none of which I was up to identifying at the moment.

I stopped before Tifa, sure I looked quite the pitiful picture in my nightgown and the blanket around my shoulders.

"I… I'm sorry, Tifa. I don't feel up to dinner too much."

She smiled at me gently. "It's alright. Don't apologize."

"Thanks." I really hoped she caught my appreciation in that word.

And then I went off as fast as my feet allow me, not knowing whether to heave a sigh of relief or crumple to the floor when I reached the guest room. I shut the door behind me and resigned myself to sitting by the window, watching the world go by underneath the Shera under the darkening night. My contemplation was deep and the result of an overwrought brain, and sometimes I felt a panic so profound that I clenched my hands around the blanket and drew it close against me, as if it were my shield of safety against the world and my raw nerves.

I don't know how long I sat there, curled up and silent, as I listened to the humming of the Shera and struggled with a burden I did not know I had carried. I had been fine (well, relatively fine) before. And now all of a sudden, it was like I found myself in the middle of a vast ocean, where I was a lonely pilgrim on a raft bound for the beyond; the waters about me were lightless and dark for now, unyielding of their secrets and determined to be against me. I knew that was not true. I had my friends and a mother who loved me, and I was fortunate to have the certainty of watching tomorrow dawn a new day.

My reverie was broken when the door cracked open and a bar of light crawled across the floor and touched the tips of my feet. Tifa stood in the doorway, a small tray in hand. I could see the glint of a glass filled with water and a faint clatter of cutlery when she moved.

"Can I come in?"

"Is that even a question?" I answered, smiling. When she presented me with a very appetizing dinner (a sort of white, lovely-smelling soup with toasted bread on the side), I couldn't help an 'oh' of appreciation. "You didn't have to."

She sat down on the edge of the bed and watched as I put the tray on my knees, proceeding to dip my spoon into the soup, take a sip, and dig in for more. "You keep saying that. The 'have to' is a given, but I think the 'want to' is more important, Chloe. I wanted to."

I set down my spoon, disbelieving of what was happening. "This is delicious," I murmured in a watery tone, and saw the ripples spread from where I put my spoon down in the soup.

"I'm glad," she replied, and that was the last straw.

The first teardrop plopped into the soup, and it wasn't that obvious. My brain filled me with an incomprehensible jargon of emotions in such a short time that I had no way of protecting myself against it.

The soup was so _good_ and she was being so very sweet to me when… well, when she didn't have to. I was being such an idiot, and I missed Dad so much that it hurt, so much that it was a hollow ache in my heart. I had desperately tried to ignore it. Lily was an idiot, too, and so was that disgusting ex-husband of hers. Tyr was an idiot as well. Bernie was the biggest dope of them all, and his dopery was only beaten out by my aunt's. I wanted to talk Cosmo Canyon talk with Red again. I wanted to see Dante. I didn't care if he drowned me in his doggy slobber or he jumped on me when I was going up stairs. I wanted to watch him tug at Mom's dresses and pull on her apron with his teeth. That annoyed her so much.

Tifa moved the tray away wordlessly as I put my elbows on my knees and cried quietly into my hands. She patted my back with a calm certainty and said nothing when I contained my sobs and shook long and hard, pouring out years' worth of trouble and anxiety. I tried to make as less noise as possible. I can't remember what amount of time passed before my breathing evened and the tears came to a halting stop, and I found that I was ravenously hungry. I took up my spoon and soup again, not bothered that the soup was less warm than before. I ate with a purpose that belongs to a starved man, and did not consider myself finished until the last droplet of soup was gone and all the crumbs of the bread had been gathered.

* * *

The next time I was up and moving, it was daylight outside and the familiar smog of Edge was surrounding me on all sides. I had been given the blanket as a free present (something which made me truly very happy) and was finally on my way home. The cement and asphalt all around me colored the world a bleak grey, but I discovered that I couldn't wait to walk up the path to my house and give Mom a rib-crushing hug. Lily and I were going to take a taxi to the center of the Edge, as the Shera couldn't really land anywhere near the house and settled for the outskirts of the city instead. It was amazing how far pollution from a city could carry.

Lily was telling me to hurry up in a snappy tone of voice, but I was practically deaf to her bitch-fits. I was resolute to ignore her from here on in. She was a rather pitiable creature, I had decided, and as such she would be getting nothing of a reaction from me – positive or negative. If she wanted to spend the rest of her life alone and in spite, then let her. It would affect me no longer.

Yuffie and Cloud looked supremely grateful that they were on solid ground again, and I felt as though I had to apologize to them two the most. Not only had I depleted the Shera's reserves and brought all of them halfway around the Planet, I'd managed to get rather ill and impede on their hospitality as well. I would repay it. Somehow.

"Well," Yuffie said to me, grinning a bit unsteadily. "Here we are!"

"We are," I replied, nodding. I surveyed their little group, all of them, and felt a swell of something nice and warm in my heart. I found it in myself to give them my first real smile – not a smirk or a grin or an imitation – an honest-to-God, thankful smile. I doubt any of them had ever seen it coming from me. "Thank you."

To this day, I like to think my friends looked surprised.


End file.
